


Crimson Water

by b_ofdale_archive (b_ofdale)



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Childhood Friends, Forbidden Friendship, Forbidden Love, Friends to Lovers, I'm an asshole, M/M, Merman!Bard, don't let the first two chapters fool you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2018-07-21 17:00:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7396030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/b_ofdale/pseuds/b_ofdale_archive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'“You're different,” it added, tilting its head slightly to the side. Thranduil meant to answer, but in one swift movement it turned, and disappeared under the water.'</p><p>This is the story of a child meeting a merboy; in a world where merfolk are persecuted and executed, their unusual friendship blooms over the years, a secret. But can their secret be kept forever?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Aged 7

**Author's Note:**

> First of all I'd like to thank [astral-bird](http://tayllustration.tumblr.com/), whose art ([x](http://tayllustration.tumblr.com/post/124731209714/give-me-an-excuse-to-draw-mermaidsmermen-and-i-am)-[x](http://tayllustration.tumblr.com/post/125458770354/it-is-done-water-is-stupid-this-started-out-as)-[x](http://tayllustration.tumblr.com/post/140737255129/i-had-a-need)) gave me the idea and inspiration to write this story. It wouldn't have built up in my head without your wonderful pieces of art! ♡
> 
> And of course my amazing friend Kal', to whom Crimson Water is dedicated, and who basically yelled at me to just go for it. Thank you for being such a good friend. I love you very much and I appreciate everything you've ever done for me, from your support to your advice. I love your enthusiasm about the things you're passionated about so much, and I'm so thankful I've met you! 
> 
> This was supposed to be an one-shot, but the first part grew really long (22k), so I cut it into chapters to make the editing easier for my beta and I :)
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy it! :D

Thranduil often wondered why his tears were salty, just like seawater; he liked to believe that maybe he belonged there, but not in the way his family wanted him to. Thranduil was seven, and though he didn't know much of himself and the world he lived in yet, he was sure of one thing: the destiny that was forced onto him wasn't the one he wanted.

However, Thranduil loved the island he lived on. It was his home, with its green forests full of wonderful trees, plants, and flowers; its hidden places and its never ending beach. He loved it, more than anything, and disappeared out the door as soon as he was freed from his lessons, seeking quiet time, or adventures when the mood struck.

But today was different; he had fled without permission. His father had left once again earlier in the morning, leaving him with his tutor, Mr. Lawson, and the mansion's staff for the next six months. And oh, how Thranduil hated Mr. Lawson.

Thranduil was a lonely boy. He didn't have any friends other than his father, the Lady Galadriel, and the ones he imagined. But his father was gone often, Lady Galadriel couldn't spend most of her time with him when she visited, and imaginary friends couldn't be touched.

He had once tried to go to the small town at the other end of the island, but he hadn't had the time to make friends, nor even to actually reach it. Mr. Lawson had made it clear that was not to happen again, or there would be consequences. Thranduil was young, but not stupid; he knew when he couldn't win, and he didn't want this father to be mad at him once he returned.

Thranduil walked barefoot near the water's edge, away from the white, burning sand of the beach; he traced angry lines with the tip of a stick he had picked up earlier, then repeatedly hit the ground with all his strength. He stopped to sigh and wipe the tears off his cheeks, before he looked around, having had enough of staring at the ground.

The beach was empty, as it always was; none but those from the mansion lived on this side of the island. Thranduil felt small here, but also free, and that was what mattered most to him. He took a deep breath, and kept on walking. 

He would be back in time for dinner, and hopefully wouldn't get too scolded for his disappearance. It wasn't as if this was the first time, anyways. At least he didn't get grounded for it anymore, as had been ordered by his father. Oropher had been clear; his son could go and about as he pleased. But Mr. Lawson wanted to be warned about Thranduil’s whereabouts, something Thranduil didn’t think about.

It was the last thing on his mind when he ran out of the mansion in tears, every time his father left for another few months.

Thranduil’s eyes got lost in the vast blue expanse on his right, as he felt the soft waves breaking against his feet. It helped him calm down, as it always did. Sometimes he walked through the forest, climbed up the trees, and it brought upon him a similar peace, though in many ways they were different. The forest was full of life, full of a fauna Thranduil could see and hear. He loved listening to the chirping of the birds, and waiting in the trees to see some of the animals the woods hid.

But he loved the beach too, for how relaxing it was. Lady Galadriel had once told him how impressed she was by how he could appreciate those things at such a young age, and that he should cherish every second of it.

And he did, for he had little else .

Just as he felt tears threatening to fall down his cheeks again, Thranduil looked away from the sea; he stopped, and blinked. He squinted, his eyes adjusting to the sunlight, trying to see further ahead. There was something on the beach.

Today was not supposed to be a special day by any means, or so he had thought.

All Thranduil could see from where he stood was a blue colour. He frowned as he started walking again, though a little faster; beached animals were usually dead before he got to them, but he swore he had seen this one moving in the distance.

Thranduil's eyes grew wider and wider as he got closer, only to stop and stare a few feet away from the creature. 

But it wasn't just any creature.

It wasn't much longer than Thranduil was tall, its tail was of a beautiful, light blue, and parts of its skin seemed burned from the sun. It was stuck in a broken fish net, the ropes cutting at its sides. It seemed weak, but it was alive, for it tried to get itself out of the net, and Thranduil could hear its panicked breath.

It was a merman, it had to be. But merpeople weren't so small, were they?

They were described as creatures similar to men in physique, save for their tail and their ability to live under sea and lakes, but not in behavior; for the merfolk were parasites, eating the fish men needed, and were nothing more than animals. Like monkeys, though more clever. It was known they could talk and, sailors said, it was what made them dangerous. Language was another thing they had stolen from them.

They were killed on sight, for it was what was done to parasites. Didn’t one get rid of a mouse eating their grain?

Thranduil wondered if it meant he had to kill it.

Thranduil felt his hands shake, and his grip on the stick grow tighter. He looked around, but saw nothing but empty space. He was still alone, like he always was.

Tentatively, he got just slightly closer, and reached out with his stick. Its tip hit the creature's back, who abruptly froze as it let out a small whimper of pain. Thranduil took a deep breath, before he walked around the creature.

Thranduil had never been more scared in his entire life. He was about to see what a mer looked like for the first time. But then he frowned, for it looked like a boy, not much older than he was. Its dark brown, curled hair reached its shoulders, framing its face. It was thin, Thranduil noticed; not something one would expect from a food stealer. But maybe it was because it looked like a child.

Finally, Thranduil met its eyes. They were hazel, and filled with more fear than Thranduil himself felt. It struck him then, that this creature was utterly terrified. Terrified of him. Nothing had ever been afraid of him. 

The merboy was breathing heavily, its eyes widened, and it stared at Thranduil like a wild, frightened animal. Thranduil found he hated being the cause of that.

He didn't know what to do, until then; but as he watched this young mer, Thranduil refused to believe it would cause him any harm. He refused to kill it as the laws said. He had never understood those laws anyways.

Thranduil took another step forward. His action seemed to snap the creature back into moving; as Thranduil crouched before it, it tried to get free from the thin ropes with more vigor. Thranduil let go of the stick, hoping it would understand he had no intention of hurting. Though the merboy looked surprised, it didn't stop trying to get away.

“Stop moving,” Thranduil protested, closing his hands on the creature's shoulders, keeping it in place. “I'm trying to help you!”

Doubt instantly tainted the mer's gaze, but it finally stopped, though it was still trembling. Thranduil could almost see all the confused thoughts that were crossing its mind.

Thranduil reached for the sheath hanging to his belt; he always had a small knife with him, which had proved itself useful many times during his explorations of the forest. As he took it off, the creature let out a small cry of fear, and stiffened under Thranduil's hand.

“P—please don't kill me,” it implored, tears filling its eyes. “Please don't kill me!”

Thranduil stopped in his action, gaping. 

It talked. It really talked.

“I'm not going to kill you,” Thranduil said as soon as he had composed himself, sounding as reassuring as he could manage. “I'm going to cut the net, okay?”

The creature only stared, before it slowly nodded. It was still tense, but as soon as Thranduil cut the first knot, it seemed to relax a little more.

“Are you alright?” Thranduil asked, cutting another. He couldn't think of anything else to say. Thranduil knew he shouldn't talk to it, but he was curious. He hadn't been this curious in a long time, actually; the feeling was almost exhilarating.

The merboy stared again, the confusion in its eyes growing with each second. Thranduil himself couldn't believe what was happening. His little escapade had taken an unexpected turn, which was just as exciting as it was scary.

“It hurts,” it whispered after a moment, uncertainty tainting its words.

Thranduil said nothing as he finished cutting the ropes. He didn't doubt it did, given the cuts on the mer's skin, the sun burns on his back and shoulders. Even its tail looked a little damaged. 

Then, he put the knife back in its sheath, and proceeded to get the creature out. It shivered under his touch, and unsuccessfully tried to back away. Thranduil ignored it, concentrated on his task even though he sometimes had to look around to make sure no one was coming their way; no one ever did, but if there was one thing he had learned from wandering the forest, it was that one was never too careful.

Besides, he was aware he was doing something he could be grounded for, and that could definitely not happen. He didn't know what he would do, if Mr. Lawson found a way to stop him from going outside. Thranduil had no doubt the creature would be hurt, too, and Thranduil didn’t know how he felt about that. It seemed to be the same age as him, though. Surely people didn't kill children, did they?

“There,” Thranduil said when he was done, tossing away bits of the net.

The mer didn't move, its breathing still hurried and its eyes filled with a mix of strong emotions. Thranduil didn't understand why it seemed so surprised; the creature was so similar to him, how could he decide to hurt it upon noticing that?

“Do you need help to go back there?” Thranduil asked, with a small gesture to the sea.

The creature slowly nodded, but it didn't meet Thranduil's eyes, as if it was ashamed of the help it had to ask for. Thranduil didn't pay attention, but his own heart beat fast against his chest; he didn't touch people much, and certainly not this way.

Thranduil took another deep breath before he slid an arm under the mer's shoulder, the other under its tail. Thranduil winced in half-disgust; it felt new and weird and fishy, though less than he imagined. He took mental note to find a fish back at the mansion to see if there was a difference.

It weighed more than expected, and carrying it on the few meters separating them from a respectable level of water proved itself difficult; Thranduil was proud of himself when he let go of the creature, who sighed of relief as soon as its body hit the cool water.

Now at a good distance, they stared at each other, but not like wolves, no; more like two young, curious dogs discovering the other for the first time. Only then did questions upon questions pop into Thranduil's mind. This creature, it wasn't anything like he had been told. It wasn't dirty, stupid, or aggressive—actually, it was exactly like he was, apart from the tail. It looked just like a boy, and Thranduil couldn’t quite grasp why they were considered animals, now that he had one of them before him.

“Thank you,” the merboy said after a short moment, shooting him a small smile.

“It's okay,” Thranduil said.

“You're different,” it added, tilting its head slightly to the side. Thranduil meant to answer, but in one swift movement it turned, and disappeared under the water.

“Wait—” Thranduil exclaimed, but it didn't turn back. “Will you come back?”

There was no answer, leaving Thranduil alone once again, having some difficulty believing what had just happened to him. Maybe he would wake up in his room, and everything would be boring again; but it felt very much real, and he could feel enthusiasm building inside his chest, like a wave of fresh air ready to fall upon him.

Thranduil couldn't put words on how he felt; it had been weird, to talk to someone new. So very weird and exciting, and that was why he wanted to talk to it again. He wanted to learn more about it, ask its name if it had one. Maybe even they could be friends!

It was that thought that pushed him back into action. Thranduil smiled and walked out of the water, eager to go home, sleep, and go back the next morning in hopes the mer would be there. He really hoped it would. Thranduil's curiosity had found a new purpose, and his day had taken a pleasant turn; he felt as if whatever would happen next, his excitement couldn't be taken away from him.

And that? That was new.

Thranduil took his time going back to the mansion, knowing from the sun that he wasn't late at all. He shot looks to the sea from time to time, hoping he would see the merboy; but there was no one, and Thranduil sighed to himself.

Soon enough the mansion appeared in sight; huge and white and glorious, surrounded by grass mixed with sand and earth. There were many flowers closer to the walls, which Thranduil loved to smell and admire.

Thranduil had been wrong, though, for as soon as he opened the doors of his home, he was reminded of who lived in the mansion with him; Mr. Lawson appeared out of a room, and went straight towards Thranduil. He was a tall man with blond hair, green eyes, and there was a dangerous, suffocating aura around him. He caught the boy's arm, shook it off a little as Thranduil tried to free himself from his grip.

“What on Earth happened to you?” Mr. Lawson exclaimed, pointing to Thranduil's wet clothes with the tip of his finger, and pinched harshly his arm with the other hand.

“I—I thought I saw a dolphin,” Thranduil lied. “I hoped we could be friends.”

Mr. Lawson rolled his eyes exasperatedly; Thranduil knew he didn't like him, either.

“Come on, go clean yourself up,” he instructed Thranduil, letting him go with a small slap to his arm. “Don't be late for dinner.”

“Yes, sir,” Thranduil muttered, though he held his head proudly as he walked away, going to his bathroom. He went up the stairs, through his room and then closed the door of the bathroom, letting out a sigh as he did so.

There was no one he hated more than Mr. Lawson; he was mean, when he wasn't teaching. Lessons were alright, though boring because Thranduil was clever, giving no reason for Mr. Lawson to annoy him.

Thranduil changed clothes after he had brushed his hair and washed his salty skin with cold water. Then, he went back into his room and picked up Westley from the bed, and opened the window. There on the terrace, he pointed to the sea, then smiled to the teddy bear.

“What do you think about it, Westley?” he asked. “Uh-uh, uh-uh. Yes, I agree.”

He hugged the plushie close, then planted a kiss on its forehead.

“I hope I'll see it again,” Thranduil whispered. “Maybe it could be my friend.”

There was a knock on the door then, and one of the servants poked his head inside.

“Mr. Thranduil, dinner will be served soon,” he announced.

“I'm coming!”

The servant left, and Thranduil took another minute to stare at the sea, wishing he could go back already. His mind then drifted off to the forest; he wanted to go back there, too, to find again the cascade he had come across a few days earlier, while following the river.

It was time to go, though, and with a last look behind him, he went to put Westley back on the bed, before he left the bedroom and ran down the stairs to the dining hall.

His home was huge, but he knew it by heart; it seemed to him there were a hundred rooms, but it wasn't actually that many, for Thranduil had counted them. There were sixty-three, and Thranduil had a lot of time on his hands to spend playing hide and seek with his father inside them, would he was available. But what he loved most was when Lady Galadriel played with him.

She hadn't come to the mansion in weeks, though, and Thranduil missed her.

Thranduil walked through corridors on whose walls were hanging all sorts of paintings; he knew all of them as well, and so he disappeared behind the largest one (a portrait of his great-grandfather), which lead closer to the dining hall. 

There was nothing Thranduil didn't know about his home. That knowledge was his family’s secret, and that was how he managed to escape the mansion so easily, without Mr. Lawson ever being able to follow him.

He entered the dining hall, and sighed of relief when he noticed that, thankfully, Mr. Lawson wasn't there yet; he wouldn't be scolded again.

Thranduil sat at the carved table where dinner had already been served; red meat, potatoes and carrots, and salads, along with various kind of desserts.

He waited about five more minutes before his tutor finally arrived. Thranduil frowned at how his tunic and hair were all messed up, but he didn't try to understand. He thought the big grapes right before him were much more interesting; surely Miss Anderson had put them there just for him.

Mr. Lawson sat in his seat and started eating, without a word. Thranduil didn't say anything, either, and served himself in the plates at his disposition. He picked a small piece of meat, and lots of potatoes and carrots.

Then, still in silence, he started eating. It wasn't much different than usual.

“Mr. Lawson?” Thranduil asked when he had almost finished his plate. “What do you know about merpeople?”

Mr. Lawson snorted, raised an eyebrow at Thranduil.

“They're disgusting parasites, that's all there is to know,” he answered, before he bit in his piece of meat. Sauce rolled down his chin. He wasn't finished chewing when he spoke again. “Why?”

“I just wondered,” Thranduil said quietly, and went back to eating the vegetables in his plate. He found Mr. Lawson disgusting, but it wasn't something he was allowed to say, though he thought it very hard.

“When is Ada coming back?” he asked next, sounding much more interested than he had been a minute earlier.

“Six months, probably,” Mr. Lawson merely answered, as he wiped the sauce with his sleeve.

“When is Lady Galadriel visiting?”

“Do you ever stop asking questions?” Mr. Lawson complained as he sent Thranduil a menacing look. “I don't know, you'll just have to wait.”

Thranduil didn't talk any more after that; he just finished his dinner, and went to thank Miss Anderson for the grapes. Then, he brought his dessert to his room as he always did.

He ate the fruits in his bed, holding Westley close as he tried to read a book; he was still slow, but he improved every day. Mr. Lawson had told him he had learned faster than most children did, and he had felt rather proud. Not when his tutor had told him, though, but once Lady Galadriel had confirmed it.

Thranduil was very tired when he was done, but he stood nonetheless and went to the terrace once again. There, he looked up to the stars, just like he used to with his mother before she left for the place people went to when it was time for them to leave this world. She had told him that they went to live in the sky, so they could watch upon those who stayed.

Thranduil loved the stars; he just missed staring up at them _with_ someone. Well, he had Westley, but Westley didn't seem much interested in them.

“Goodnight, naneth,” Thranduil said.

His head between the bars of the balcony, Thranduil stayed there until he felt his eyes closing themselves and being unable to control them; only then did he close the door and lay on his bed, wrapping himself up in the soft silken sheets.

Before he fell asleep, his thoughts were directed towards the beach, and the mer he had met there; Thranduil wondered if it was going to sleep too, what was upon its mind and if it would come back near the shore to meet him again. Maybe they shared the same thoughts, the same curiosity. Thranduil hoped he would know soon enough.

He closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, it was to see the soft pink of dawn in the sky. Thranduil rubbed his eyes, and yawned. Westley was still was in his arms, and Thranduil kissed his cheek.

“Good morning, Westley,” he whispered to the teddy bear's ear. Then Thranduil put him back under the sheets, his head on the pillow. Thranduil stretched, and suddenly he remembered the events of the day before. He jumped from his bed in excitement, and ran to the bathroom. There he quickly got himself ready for the day, before he ran down the stairs to the kitchens.

He picked up more grapes, black this time, and some slices of bread, and disappeared down the corridors of the mansion to one of the many ways out. He wasn't worried about being scolded for not being there for breakfast; it was Saturday, and this day he could spend as he pleased. He had no lessons, and no obligation to eat with Mr. Lawson, apart from in the evening.

Thranduil ran to the beach, and only when his feet were in the water did he realize he had no idea of where to go. He looked around, but saw no creature of the sea waiting for him.

His shoulders slumped in disappointment. Why had he believed the mer would be back? Surely it hadn't heard him when Thranduil had asked. Surely it didn't even want to meet with him again. Why would it, anyway?

Thranduil sighed and walked along the water; it was cold, but not enough for him to get out of its reach. The air was cold as well, but Thranduil didn't mind its bite. He knew it would warm up soon, once the sun was higher in the sky.

He thought about the day before and picked up sea shells from the ground, keeping those he found pretty enough to add to the little chest he kept inside his room; he had promised Lady Galadriel he would make a necklace for her, and so it had to be beyond perfect.

Thranduil stopped walking when he reached the dock, and sat on the sand below it. There he let his gaze get lost in the apparent infinity of the ocean, wondering how far it stretched, if it even stopped somewhere. Thranduil had asked his father once, who had answered that as far as he had gone, no matter the fact that he always found land, the ocean never seemed to truly end.

It made Thranduil want to discover it all by himself, and when he had told his father so, Oropher had seemed glad, almost proud; he hadn't understood it in the way Thranduil had meant it. For Thranduil didn't want to follow his father's steps.

He wanted to be free, to have amazing adventures he could describe with great words that he would put on paper and keep to himself to read when he wanted to live them again. Thranduil closed his eyes, imagined that being how future would be, and hoped it would be soon; if he could, he would build a boat and leave. But Thranduil wasn't good with his hands, and he loved his island, his beach and his forest. He also didn't want to have those adventures alone. He wanted to have a friend to share them with. 

It was as he thought this that he heard movement not far from where he sat. He turned his head, and his eyes widened in surprise and joy as he saw the mer from the day before, looking at him from a respectable distance, with only its head popping up from the water.

Its eyes were uncertain, as if it feared to get closer. Thranduil wondered why; he had helped it, and he was only a boy. It had nothing to fear from him.

“You came back!” Thranduil beamed, getting up and walking closer until the water reached his waist.

The creature opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again and sank his head slightly deeper, his eyes and the top of his head now the only things Thranduil could see of him.

“Why are you shy?” Thranduil asked, tilting his head slightly to the side.

The mer frowned, raised itself just enough so it could speak.

“I'm not shy,” it said. “I'm careful.”

“I'm not going to eat you,” Thranduil said, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

It hesitated just a moment longer before it sighed and swam to Thranduil, stopping just out of hand's reach. Thranduil felt as if he was being inspected. Thranduil met its eyes, hoping it would say something instead of just staring at him the way it did now.

“Are you a he, or a she, or—?” Thranduil asked then to break the silence, swaying uncomfortably on his feet. He thought it was rude, to ask such a question, but he'd feel bad to keep thinking 'it'.

The mer chuckled, flapping its tail; it appeared out of the water for a few seconds, and Thranduil thought it really was beautiful, nothing like he had ever seen.

“I'm Bard,” it said, apparently feeling reassured enough to talk.

_A he, then._

“I'm Thranduil.”

“Is that a boy or a girl's, or both's name?” Bard asked sheepishly, and Thranduil couldn't help his blush. He didn't quite understand what Bard meant by 'both', and he didn't know how to feel about how Bard couldn't figure out he was a boy, though he found he didn’t mind.

“A boy's.”

“Okay,” Bard merely replied. He looked into Thranduil's eyes, searching them as if he was trying to find something. Thranduil guessed he didn't find it, for he frowned again.

“Why were you crying, the other day?” Bard asked.

“I wasn't crying,” Thranduil said defensively. He hoped his lie couldn't be heard in his voice; he was good at lying, but he still wondered. Living with Mr. Lawson had forced him to become rather good at it, but it didn't make him proud in any way. At least, not when he lied to someone other than his tutor.

“Yes you were,” Bard said, with a shrug.

“No I wasn't!” Thranduil exclaimed, his voice taking a defensive tone.

“Stop lying!” Bard snapped. “Why are you ashamed of it?”

Thranduil had opened his mouth to snap back, but he stopped himself. Instead, he blinked and stared at the merboy, confusion painted all over his face. Why was he ashamed? Did Bard really think there was no reason to be? It made no sense, did it?

“Boys don't cry,” Thranduil merely said.

“Of course they do.” Bard shrugged again. “Why were you crying?”

“I was just sad,” Thranduil answered, his body stiff; he didn't want Bard to mock him, but he continued anyway under the pressure of the merboy's curious gaze. “My father left again. He won't be back for months.”

Bard's eyes softened, before a small light brightened them up.

“Is he the one who's got the big pretty boat?” he asked.

“Yes, I guess,” Thranduil replied. “It's the only boat that was around here lately—do you really like it?”

“Oh, yes!” Bard exclaimed. “I always come to see it when it comes back here. It's a good boat; it doesn't have any nets on it.”

Thranduil couldn't stop a smile from tugging at the corner of his mouth; he was happy, to hear that the merboy liked his father's boat. Thranduil loved it, too, and he had told Father so many times. He was just sad that, every time he did, Oropher always reminded him the boat would one day be his, when he would take on the family business.

Bard smiled back, and Thranduil watched curiously as he made a full turn on himself. It seemed like a way to show he was happy, too. But as he did so, Thranduil noticed the damaged skin of his back, and he remembered the state in which he had found—and left—Bard.

“Does it hurt?” Thranduil asked, concern in his voice.

“Nah, it's okay,” Bard said. “Mam put algae on it, she says it'll be fine.”

Thranduil nodded slowly, and a rather awkward silence fell between them. He turned, then, and went to sit in the water; Bard followed him, and this way he could lie on his belly. He seemed to be feeling comfortable there, just as Thranduil was.

Bard put his head between his hands, and looked up to Thranduil with curious eyes. He didn't say anything, and Thranduil had to look away for a second; he wasn't used to being the centre of someone's attention, and the weight, though kind, of Bard's gaze on him was impossible for him to ignore.

Thranduil found it was the right time to ask the question that had been on his mind from the beginning. He looked around first, making sure no one would arrive. It was useless, though; Thranduil wondered if it was even necessary for him to check since Bard himself kept giving glances around whenever he got the chance.

“Why did you come back?”

“I told you: you're different,” Bard replied tentatively. “Why did you?”

“You're nothing like I heard your people are,” Thranduil said. “Do you want to be my friend?”

Thranduil hadn't been able to stop himself; he desperately wanted to have a friend, and Bard was kind to him. He still wanted to learn everything about him, though; to know what it was like to live in the ocean, and go wherever he wished.

Bard's eyes widened, and he flapped his tail under the clear water. Then, as he seemed to realize Thranduil was being serious, a wide smile brightened up his face.

“Sure!” he beamed, then quiet wonder took its place in his gaze. “You really are different.”

“Why?” Thranduil wondered aloud.

“Well, because men are very mean,” Bard said flatly, though his eyes took a darker light, only to soften again. “Mam told me men are cruel; they kill us as soon as they get the chance. But you didn't even hurt me, so you're different.”

Just as Bard did, Thranduil shivered; at first, he wanted to protest, say men were not mean. But then Mr. Lawson appeared in his mind, and he stopped himself just in time.

“You're different, too,” Thranduil said, extending his hand to point at Bard's chest, making him frown.

“Why?” he asked in turn.

“You don't look like a parasite,” Thranduil explained as he looked down to bury his fingers in the sand under the water. He caught a glimpse of Bard's pained expression though, and regretted his words, even though he wasn't doing anything but repeating what he had been told all his life. “Your tail is very pretty.”

“You really think so?” Bard inquired.

“Yes, I love its colour,” Thranduil said, looking up to him again. Blush spread over Bard's cheeks, and Thranduil chuckled.

“Thank you,” Bard said. “I like your hair.”

It was Thranduil's turn to blush. No one but his mother and Lady Galadriel had ever complimented him on his hair before. Mr. Lawson said it was too long, and his father never paid much attention to it.

“Mr. Lawson said you're parasites stealing our fish—but I don't believe him,” he said to change the subject, before his cheeks could turn completely red.

“Stealing your fish?” Bard's eyes widened in surprise, then he grimaced. “We don't eat fish, that's disgusting.”

Thranduil smiled, amused, but he was genuinely curious as he asked his next question. “What do you eat, then?”

“Algae and plants.” Bard shrugged. “Don't you eat those?”

“Never. We eat meat, vegetables, and fruits.”

“What's that?”

“You don't know? I'll bring you some if you want!” Thranduil offered, and beamed at the way Bard's face brightened up.

“Great!” he exclaimed. “Do you want to taste our food, too?”

Thranduil gladly agreed, and for the next few hours the boy and the merboy talked and talked and talked, forgetting the world around them and being lucky not to be noticed. They went separate ways with the promise to see each other again two days later. Thranduil told Bard he would bring him oranges and grapes for him to taste, and Bard some weird sounding food his people prepared.

It was with a bright smile on his face that Thranduil went home that evening, his stomach growling and his head filled with excitement; he couldn't believe he had made a friend, here in this place he thought he would only share with people he knew already. And what a special friend it was!

“Why do you look so happy?” Mr. Lawson had growled during dinner, to which Thranduil had lied and said he had managed to see the dolphin from the day before. His tutor had rolled his eyes, and Thranduil had quickly finished his plate to go back to his room.

He talked of Bard to the stars before he went back to his bed to retrieve Westley, and hugged him close.

“I hope you don't mind,” Thranduil told his teddy bear, “that I found another friend.”

He put his ear closer to Westley's mouth, then smiled.

“I'm glad you understand,” Thranduil said. “I promise I'm not replacing you, and I hope you'll find a new friend, too.”

Then he sat on the terrace floor, and he watched the horizon until his eyes closed, and dreams took him far from home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if I managed the more... 'innocent' writing style I was aiming for without making the writing shitty, but yeah...
> 
> My friend [Iza](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Piyo13) is an amazing beta and you should definitely check out her work! :D
> 
> Let me know if you've enjoyed this first chapter, it would mean the world to me, and thank you for reading! ♡


	2. Aged 7 to 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little reminder that this fic was supposed to be a one-shot, so time jumps are a thing in this chapter (and it'll be in the next ones as well) :)

The following day felt incredibly long, longer than it really was, to Thranduil. His lessons with Mr. Lawson never seemed to end, and it was always in a hurry that he ran to the forest and climbed the trees to spend the rest of his day. He lingered there as long as he could, hoping there was someone he could talk to about Bard. Maybe Lady Galadriel would be interested, and believe him. Thranduil doubted Mr. Lawson ever would—which, actually, was probably a good thing.

However, as he sat the next morning with his tutor, studying maps of the nearby islands, Thranduil decided to ask him more about the merpeople. He didn't understand why Mr. Lawson's version and Bard's were different. He trusted Bard's word though, because he was nice and he was a merfolk, and Lawson, well, _wasn't_. And Thranduil had seen it himself; merpeople were really nothing like what he had been told, and he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it.

“Mr. Lawson?”

“What?”

“How do you know merpeople eat fish?” Thranduil asked casually, his eyes not leaving the papers on the table.

“God, what is with you and those creatures now?” Mr. Lawson complained.

“I wonder, that's all.”

“I just know it, okay?” Mr. Lawson said, giving Thranduil's shoulder a light slap. “Everybody knows it.”

“But… have you ever seen one?”

“No, so what?”

“How do you know they're disgusting?”

“That's what people say, and I trust people,” Mr. Lawson answered, rolling his eyes once again. Thranduil wondered if he would get stuck in doing it sometimes. “I don't need to see one of those things to know it.”

Thranduil didn't insist after that; it just confirmed for him the opinion he was building for himself. Why should he believe Mr. Lawson, when Thranduil was the one who had actually seen a merboy with his very own eyes, and talked to him? He even felt proud of it, to know something his tutor didn't—to know he was the one who was right.

But it was a pride he would have to keep to himself. Thranduil was young, but he wasn't stupid; he could recognize danger when he saw it. His instinct told him that Bard should be kept a secret, no matter what. He actually found it rather exciting; his own little adventure.

When the third day came, Thranduil was up at dawn. He got himself ready, went to breakfast, and followed his lessons with a distracted mind, which got him a few more disapproving looks and slaps to the shoulder.

Then came lunch and, as soon as he was done, Thranduil went to the kitchen to gather some of the fruits he had promised to bring Bard, and ran out of the door without answering the maid’s questions, his heart beating fast inside his chest. He hadn't stopped thinking about Bard since they’d met, and he couldn't wait to see him again.

Thranduil went to the spot under the dock, and waited there for Bard to arrive, holding the fruits close to him like a promise.

Bard appeared after a few minutes, his head suddenly popping out of the water. Thranduil startled; Bard seemed good at approaching unnoticed even though the water was as clear as crystal. But maybe it was because Thranduil had been distracted by the little fish interested in his feet.

“Hey,” Bard greeted. He was smiling widely, blue tail wagging slowly under the water, and enthusiasm in his eyes.

He got closer and settled himself just like a few days before, his tail swaying out of the water, but this time he extended a hand holding some weird algae Thranduil had never seen before.

“Hello,” Thranduil said back, and he exchanged Bard's food with the first of his fruits.

They didn't need any more formalities—it was as though they had known each other since forever; Bard gestured to the algae with his head, shooting Thranduil a cheeky smile.

“What is it?” Thranduil asked, turning the food between his fingers; it was truly nothing like he had ever seen. He couldn't even find the words to describe it. It was just... weird.

“It's an ajogra,” Bard answered, sounding as if it was his favourite thing. Then, he looked at the fruit in his hands more closely, frowning. “And what's this?”

“It's an orange. I have grapes, too.”

“You first,” Bard instructed, excitement in his voice. He flapped his tail, and Thranduil chuckled at the sight of it.

Thranduil took a deep breath before he bit down. As soon as the algae touched his tongue, he grimaced.

“It's too salty!” Thranduil complained.

Bard laughed into his hand, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “No it's not.”

Thranduil rolled his eyes; he guessed maybe Bard couldn't even taste how the water itself was similarly salty.

“Come on, your turn,” Thranduil said, poking at Bard's arm.

It was easy, to talk and interact with Bard, and Thranduil found he liked it all very much; it was all so fast and so new, and he was loving every second of it already.

Bard inspected the fruit in his hands, until Thranduil realized he probably didn't understand how to open it. So, Thranduil took it back and showed him. He shoved the orange back into Bard's hand, along with a few grapes. Bard stared at them as if he didn't know where to start.

He went for the orange first, and his eyes widened in surprise.

“That's—woah, that's weird, but really good,” Bard said as he took another mouthful of the fruit. Then he put a grape in his mouth, bit down, and he smiled again. “That's good, too!”

Thranduil laughed then, like he hadn't laughed in a long time; Bard's smile turned into a grin and soon enough he laughed too as he stole grapes from Thranduil's hands, and ate them happily as Thranduil told him of his adventures in the forest.

Their little moment was short-lived, though, for Bard suddenly froze, fixing on something behind Thranduil. Thranduil froze as well, and turned to see someone slowly but surely approaching, not noticing them only because they weren't looking in the right direction.

“Go, go!” Thranduil told Bard, his voice pressing and insistent as his heart raced in his chest. He made quick gestures with his hands, realizing upon seeing the fear all over Bard’s face how his instinct to keep Bard a secret had been a good one.

Bard didn't have to be told twice; he turned and disappeared under the water, and it was as if no one but Thranduil had been there.

Just in time for Mr. Lawson to appear under the dock as well, frowning at Thranduil who was still sitting in the water, but had luckily let go of Bard's algae.

“What are you doing, Thranduil?”

“Nothing,” Thranduil lied.

“You were talking—laughing with someone,” the tutor insisted, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

“Just with myself, sir,” Thranduil assured him. “I'm pretending to be a sailor, and a pirate.”

“Sure,” Mr. Lawson said. Thranduil didn't like how unconvinced he sounded.

“What are you doing here?” Thranduil asked, hoping to deviate the subject from himself and his whereabouts.

“None of your business, kid,” Mr. Lawson said through gritted teeth. “But if you really need to know, I was just checking on the dock. The merchant bringing the food said he thought he’d seen a parasite yesterday.” He stared at Thranduil then, searching his eyes. “You wouldn't happen to have seen one, would you?”

“No,” Thranduil answered without a second of hesitation. He mentally congratulated himself for his reaction. “I just saw the dolphin.”

“Uh-huh,” was all Mr. Lawson replied, before he gave a last look around and walked away.

Thranduil let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. He was now sure of one thing: they needed to find a place to meet in secret, and he might just have an idea. He was also fuming, for Mr. Lawson had just ruined his day. He had only met with Bard for a few minutes, and didn't know when he would see him again.

Thranduil sighed before he got up, only for his mind to be filled with another kind of excitement; he would go check on the place he had in mind, and next time he would see Bard, Thranduil would tell him to go there. They wouldn't be bothered ever again, and he was sure they would have a lot of fun together.

He ran down the beach to the cliffs connecting the forest to the sea; they were far away, at least to his eyes, and he hoped he would again find the cave he had discovered a few weeks earlier. If he was lucky, maybe it was actually joined to the sea, and not just some kind of water source. He hadn't had the time to check when he’d found it; he had just heard the movement of water against rocks, but then there had been a terrifying noise and bats flying over his head, and he had run off back home.

Thranduil followed the base of the cliff, keeping an eye out for the lianas that he knew were hiding the cave's entrance. He was scared, of course, anticipating the same fright as the last time, but he decided to take it as what it was; an adventure which he would be rewarded for with, perhaps, a place where he could meet with Bard without the risk of Mr. Lawson, or anyone, for that matter, finding them out.

He was careful of where he put his feet, trying to avoid tripping on roots, and his hand always lingered on the stone to his left as he checked behind every wall of plants he stumbled across.

When he found it at last, a smile stretched across his face; there was no way anyone else would find it unless they knew where to look.

Thranduil entered, his heart taking a faster rhythm, as if threatening to burst out of his chest. He stopped for a moment, and took a deep breath. He knew there would be light a little further down the path, and all he had to do was to be brave enough to reach it without turning back.

“Come on, Thranduil,” he said to himself. “It’s not even that far.”

He took a first step, then another, and walked into the shadows.

There were sounds all around him; from his own breath to drops of water to the squeals of little animals hidden between the rocks. But then, there was the splash of water against walls of stone and breaking on the earth. Thranduil blinked, squinted; he could see it already, the light. The beautiful light.

He walked faster then, only for his eyes to widen in amazement as he broke into a sort of clearing; the sun's light shone inside from a hole in the ceiling, illuminating the place with all its purity. There were plants growing on the rocks, and a small beach of white sand. A little paradise that maybe he would make his.

He admired the place a while longer before he took his tunic off and stepped into the water; it was just pleasantly warmed by the sun, and after taking off his clothes, Thranduil sank into it without much trouble.

Then, he dove in, and opened his eyes.

Thranduil burst out of the water moments later, with a sharp intake of breath. The water on his lips was salty. He coughed a little, before he sat in the sand and rubbed his eyes. It had been too dark down there to see as much as he had wished to, but he was sure he had seen a passage that he hoped was large enough for Bard.

Once dry Thranduil left the place, _his_ place, with a pleasant feeling of accomplishment; he had entered the scary cave, and found a nice little haven of peace. He was still smiling brightly to himself on the way back home later that day, and it didn't fade as he put himself in bed. He would go back to the beach in the morning, in hopes that Bard would be there, and that he would let Thranduil show him their future secret cave.

And indeed, as he arrived under the dock after breakfast on the next day, Bard was there, waiting for him. He looked more wary though, after how close he had been of being discovered the day before, but his expression brightened up as his eyes met Thranduil's.

“Oh, here you—”

“Follow me!” Thranduil cut him off, and even if Bard scowled, he did so nonetheless. “First who gets to the cliff!”

Bard's gaze took on a competitive edge then, and he rushed forward, taking a notable advance on Thranduil.

Thranduil was quick to understand he didn't have a chance.

Bard was laughing as Thranduil caught up on him, out of breath and exhausted from his run.

“It's not funny,” he muttered, but Bard didn't seem ready to stop, and Thranduil eventually gave in; he laughed, too, much to Bard's apparent gladness.

“Why did you want to come here?” Bard asked once they were both breathing steadily enough again.

Thranduil's face lit up, and he pointed to where the water met the cliff's rock.

“I found a place where we can meet!” Thranduil exclaimed. “It's a cave, and I think you can get in too, there should be an entrance somewhere over there.”

“A cave?” Bard repeated, his eyes shining with excitement. “Amazing!”

“I'll meet you in there, okay?” Thranduil told him. “If I wait too long, I'll come back here.”

Bard nodded enthusiastically before he disappeared under the water, and Thranduil didn't wait any longer before he ran to his own entrance, somehow managing not to fall over rocks and roots; once inside he sat on a big rock, and waited for Bard to arrive. Assuming he had found the entrance. Thranduil hoped he could get through.

He was lucky, though, for only a few minutes later there was movement not far from him, and Bard's head appeared in sight.

“It's awesome!” Bard beamed as soon as he emerged from the water. It had to be the first time he saw plants and trees’ roots, for he gaped at them in amazement.

“This is our cave now,” Thranduil said, extending his hand to shake. Bard stared at it, tilting his head slightly to the side. “You're supposed to take it and shake it.”

“Oh, okay,” Bard said, and shyly took hold of Thranduil's hand, before he gently shook it up and down. “Like this?”

“Pretty much, yes.” Thranduil smiled. He hadn't thought about it that day when he'd gotten Bard out of the net, but Bard's skin didn't really feel very different from any other. Maybe it was even as soft as his own.

Thranduil didn't let go of Bard's hand; instead he jumped from the rock to the sand underwater, and brought it up closer to his face, inspecting it with curious eyes. It looked completely the same, too.

Bard didn't protest; he just watched, bemused.

“Can I touch your tail, too?” Thranduil asked then.

Bard gaped at him. “Well—uh, I—that's—maybe someday but—” he stammered, literally turning beet red as he took his hand from Thranduil to put a lock of hair behind his ear. 

It could have been funny, if Thranduil didn’t feel terrible at the sight; he hadn’t meant to embarrass Bard. He took a step forward, looking contrite.

“I'm sorry, I didn't want to upset you,” Thranduil said, his tone almost imploring. “Please, stay my friend!”

Though Bard was still blushing, the light panic that crossed his face was stronger; he approached Thranduil again as he sat in the water, looking away in shame.

“No, no, it's okay!” Bard said quickly. “It's just that, its… skin is very fragile and we can only let people of great trust touch it. Special people.”

Thranduil wasn't convinced; surely he had done something wrong by just even asking, and he regretted it immensely. Bard seemed to understand that, for he turned to float on his back and lifted his tail out of the water.

“I mean, look at all the little scars,” he said, pointing to a few bigger ones. “That's because I'm a little clumsy. Mam always says I should be more careful.”

Thranduil slowly nodded, and took a deep breath. “So we can still be friends?”

“Of course we can still be friends,” Bard assured him, but then his eyes took a sadder tone. “You don't have many friends, do you?”

Thranduil just shook his head. He wasn't proud of being so lonely, for he knew very well children were supposed to have lots of friends and play with them all the time; he had read it in a book Mr. Lawson had used to teach him to read. But Thranduil's only friends were adults who often weren’t there for him.

“Don't worry, I don't have many either.”

“Why?” Thranduil asked quietly, though he was truly curious. He didn't understand why Bard didn't have friends; he was kind and he had a very pretty tail. Maybe he was just lying to make Thranduil feel better.

Bard merely shrugged. “I don't know, but Mam says it doesn’t matter as long as I’m happy,” he said. “What about you?”

“There's no one I can be friends with,” Thranduil merely replied, his gaze down again.

But then he was brought into a tight hug, and Bard's voice resonated in his ear like a promise they were both making.

“Well, it's okay now, because you have me, and I have you!” he exclaimed, beaming.

Thranduil stiffened at first, but as soon as Bard was about to let go of him, he couldn't help but hug back.

He hadn't felt this happy in a long time, and it was with a lighter heart that Thranduil let go of Bard to shoot him his brightest smile.

They spent all day in the cave, talking about simple things, but more difficult ones as well; Thranduil learned Bard's dad had been killed by fishermen, and such a revelation made him seriously realize how great it was that Bard had decided to trust him. Maybe it was what happened, when you saved someone's life. He felt honoured beyond measure, and over the weeks that followed there was more and more Bard told him, and in return Thranduil talked of his life, and Bard listened as if Thranduil was the most interesting person in the world. 

Thranduil felt this way, too, and hoped Bard could see it.

It was a month later that Thranduil was told Lady Galadriel would come to visit soon; he kept bouncing up and down in excitement, and could barely stop talking about her to Bard, who never once complained, though he did mention that he'd like to talk a little, too.

It had become a habit for Thranduil to meet with Bard every two days or so, and once Lady Galadriel arrived at the mansion, he found difficult to not share his secret with her, for he found the burden hard to bear on his own. He wondered what she would say, and that was why, one evening as they watched the stars while sitting in the gardens, Thranduil tugged at the sleeve of her white dress, and peered up at her with his most innocent eyes.

“Galadriel?” he asked.

“Yes, Thranduil?”

“What’s your opinion on merpeople?”

Galadriel seemed to be thinking seriously about his question for a moment, before she lay her kind, wise gaze back on him. “I think I cannot say, because I've never met them.”

“So you don't think they're parasites?”

She smiled softly, as she stroke Thranduil’s hair. “No, I don't,” she said. “I think we shouldn't be hateful towards those who are different from us.”

Thranduil weighed her words. “I think you're right,” he said with conviction, clapping his hands together.

Galadriel laughed. She put an arm around his shoulders, and started telling him the stories she had heard of the merpeople over the years. Thranduil was impressed by her knowledge, but she wasn't always right, and he had to stop himself from correcting her.

He wished strongly to tell her his secret, for she seemed open enough to the subject, and Thranduil managed to keep it for a long time. But then came the day it spilled from his lips before he could stop himself.

They were walking along the beach, and Thranduil couldn't stop sending glances to the horizon. He hoped—or feared—to see a glimpse of Bard, for his secret was growing big on him, with all the risks for Bard that came with it.

“Are you looking for something, Thranduil?” Galadriel asked. 

Thranduil teared his eyes away from the sea, and closed his hands behind his back with a sheepish look on his face. A small smile played on Lady Galadriel’s lips, and Thranduil didn’t know what to make of it. “No,” he said quickly.

She raised an eyebrow, but her smile didn't falter. “Are you sure?” she asked again, and Thranduil didn't like how it felt like she already knew what it was that he was hiding.

“Y—yes,” he insisted anyway, but the weight of Galadriel's eyes on him made Thranduil look down. “But—”

He kept on walking by her side, burying his feet deeper in the ground with each step. Galadriel was patient with him, not pushing the subject, but surely she knew he was about to give in and let it all out. Thranduil didn’t like that. 

Thranduil played with a lock of his hair until at last he burst out, “I—I have a friend.”

“Oh, do you?”

“Yes—he's called Bard.”

“And how did you meet him?”

“I helped him,” Thranduil said, finally looking up from the sand to meet Galadriel's gaze. “He's—he's different. Uh—” He took a deep breath. “Merfolk different.”

Galadriel merely hummed, a content look on her face.

Thranduil frowned, but he felt like a weight was taken off his shoulders. “You don't look surprised,” he said.

“Maybe it is because I'm not surprised,” she replied, and smiled once again.

Thranduil rolled his eyes, though he was used of Galadriel's way of speaking.

“Such a secret is a heavy burden for a child,” Galadriel told him gently. “It is good, that you've shared it with me.”

“You won't tell anyone, will you?” Thranduil asked. He stopped and turned on his heel so he would face the Lady, laying his most serious eyes on her. He knew she wouldn't, or at least he hoped she wouldn’t, but he had to make sure.

“I promise,” she replied, with a slight bow of her head and a hand over her heart.

Thranduil grinned, and took her hand. He had no reason not to believe her.

  


~•§•~

  
Over the three years that passed, Galadriel often asked news of Bard; how he was doing and what the both of them were up to, and Thranduil gladly told her all of their little adventures.

However Thranduil always closed off a little when Galadriel said she'd like to meet his friend, someday. He wasn't sure this was a good idea, for even though he had told Bard that Galadriel knew of their secret, the merboy had yet to fully trust her.

But the more Thranduil spoke of Galadriel, the more Bard seemed to find it harder to hide that he was curious about meeting another human, and Thranduil started considering a meeting, though he spoke not of it.

It was a warm day of summer when Lady Galadriel came to visit again. Her belongings had been brought to the mansion early in the morning, long before Thranduil had woken up, and Thranduil was excited to see her again, for he had many stories to tell. He waited on the stairs for a long time, but as the sun went higher in the sky, there was no sign of her.

Only a little before noon someone came to Thranduil, and told him that if it was Lady Galadriel he was waiting for, she had gone for a walk soon after her arrival.

Thranduil cursed under his breath; he hated to uselessly spend free time he could enjoy in Bard's company instead. And so he went, telling himself he would see the Lady Galadriel in the evening instead.

He walked to his and Bard's cave, hoping his friend would be there. And, if he wasn't, it wouldn't take him long to come. It seemed that whenever Thranduil got inside their secret cave, something warned Bard of his arrival, so that he didn't stay alone for too long.

Thranduil entered the cave as he would his own room, already repeating in his head what he would tell Bard about—his morning, and how annoyed he was to have been waiting for nothing.

Yet the deeper he got inside the cave, the more he thought he could hear not one, but two voices. It wasn't unusual for Bard to talk to himself, but today, Thranduil was under the impression there was another with him which he swore belonged to—

Thranduil froze before the scene before him as he stepped into the larger, oasis-like part of their cave, his heart beating hard in fear; but as he realized what he was looking at, his horror quickly turned into confusion.

Lady Galadriel had taken place on the rock Thranduil liked to sit on when he didn't bathe in the water with Bard. She was smiling upon an enthusiastic Bard, who seemed to have just got rid of any fear.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Bard,” Galadriel was saying, “I've heard much about you.”

“I've heard a lot about you too, Miss,” Bard replied, smiling up at her. He seemed in awe, and though Thranduil knew it was true she was a fair, beautiful lady, he still felt a tinge of jealousy at the attention she was getting from his best friend.

The feeling was quick to disappear, for in that instant Bard turned his head and saw him, and the grin that grew on his face was much brighter than the one he had given Lady Galadriel; Thranduil felt his heart warm up at the sight, and he smiled in return.

“Thran!” Bard exclaimed as he opened his arms, and Thranduil surged to join them, sending Galadriel a confused though respectful look of greeting, before he accepted the embrace Bard was extending to him.

“Hello, Thranduil,” she said, and when Thranduil let go of Bard to look at her, what he saw in her eyes was nothing but a fondness he had never witnessed before.

“What are you doing here?”

“As you know, I wished to meet your friend,” Galadriel answered, her eyes soft upon Thranduil's serious face.

“How did you get in?” The question had been burning on Thranduil's tongue as soon as he had seen the Lady in his and Bard's secret place.

“The same way as you,” she said, and Thranduil frowned. This was not what he had meant at all.

“But how did you find it?” he asked again with a raised eyebrow.

“I was a child once too, Thranduil,” was Galadriel's answer, and Thranduil understood he would not get much more from her.

“She means she found it before you when she was our age,” Bard intervened, making Thranduil glare at him.

“Thanks, I got it.”

Bard shrugged. “If you say so.”

“Exactly, I say so.”

“Come on now, little ones,” Galadriel said before Bard could retort anything, holding up her hand. “Why don't you tell me again about how you two met?”

“You've heard Thran's version, I'll tell you mine!” Bard exclaimed, and he set off on a long and rather exaggerated (in Thranduil's opinion) tale of how he had ended up on the beach three years ago.

He then answered Galadriel's questions about his people and their way of living, from the food they ate to how they travelled, though always he was careful not to let her know anything about where they lived.

And Thranduil listened, too, never tired of hearing Bard's words about his family and his people, for his love for them could be heard in everything he said, and seen in the brightness of his eyes.

It was a long, but pleasant, afternoon.

It did not, thankfully, become an habit for Galadriel to join them, as Thranduil had feared would happen. He cherished his time with Bard, but was also rather possessive of it, and as a consequence Thranduil wasn't eager to share it with anyone.

However, he was still glad to talk about Bard with Galadriel, who always listened to his stories with a smile on her face. It was strange, for Thranduil had come to notice how different she acted towards him; when she was cold or unreadable with others, she was kind and soft to him. Perhaps it was because she had been close to his mother, or maybe she just liked him. Thranduil didn't linger on such thoughts; he had much more important things to pay attention to, and those mostly included Bard.

The merboy was his only friend. If there was one thing that hadn't changed over the years, it was this. Mr. Lawson was still his usual self, Thranduil always followed his lessons, and Thranduil’s father only came home once every six months.

Today was one of those days.

When Thranduil woke up on the morning of his fourteenth birthday, the ocean he could see from his window wasn't as blue as usual: there was the white of sails by the dock. And this could only mean one thing: his father was home.

Thranduil sprang out of bed and didn't even bother to put on decent clothes as he exited his bedroom in a run. _His father was home!_

As he passed the maids and servants, Thranduil caught sight of the wide smiles on their faces as they chuckled between themselves. He kept on running, ignoring what they might be saying, through the gardens and into the sand, until he saw him.

Oropher, dressed in his usual travel gear, let his bags fall to the ground as he extended his arms.

“Thranduil!” he said, the smile on his face as large as the one Thranduil bore himself.

“Ada!”

Thranduil crashed into him, and his father's chest rumbled with laughter.

“Happy birthday, son,” he said, looking down to Thranduil's beaming face.

Oropher was a tall man. He had grey eyes, and the hair to match. His features were serious, but when he smiled for his son, they were kinder.

“I didn't know you were coming!” Thranduil said, taking Oropher's hand as well as one of the lightest bags.

“I wanted to surprise you,” Oropher replied. “No one spoiled it, did they?”

Thranduil chuckled, and shook his head.

His birthday couldn't start any better.

All of it was spent in the gardens and by the beach, when they weren't eating cake or opening gifts.

As it always was, Thranduil found it hard not to share his secret with his father. He didn't know his opinion on merpeople, but spending most of his time travelling, Thranduil doubted Oropher thought any differently than everyone else.

Thranduil hadn't ever dared ask him.

Instead, Thranduil talked of everything and anything, though he avoided the subject of the future as much as possible. He knew how important it was to his father that Thranduil took over the family business. But today being his birthday, he knew, too, that Oropher wouldn't bring the subject to the table.

Thranduil loved his father with all his heart, and it was no secret Oropher loved him just as much. Thranduil just wished they could agree on the things that mattered most to him.

Those were the only thoughts that burdened his mind that day, and when the evening came, Thranduil was glad he could at last go see the one person whose company he already missed, and who never failed to make him forget about any worries he might bear.

He found Bard where he had expected to; sitting on one of the lower rocks of the cave, his blue tail in the water and his fingers playing with a lock of his hair. Thranduil's heart fluttered in his chest. Bard was always on time.

Bard turned towards him.

“Happy birthday, Thran!” Bard beamed as soon as their eyes met.

Getting himself back together, Thranduil answered by throwing himself in Bard's arms, smiling and laughing against his ear. His chest was dry and warm; he must have been there for a while. 

Thranduil didn't want to let Bard go.

“I saw your father's home!” Bard said when Thranduil finally fought his wish, and broke their hug to sit next to him.

“Yes, I spent the whole day with him!” Thranduil replied as he put an arm around Bard's shoulders. “It was a surprise, and we had lots of cake. It's too bad you can't digest it.”

On his first birthday since his meeting with Bard, Thranduil had brought Bard back a piece of the huge cake that had been baked for him. Thranduil had figured out it had been a bad idea when Bard had come back the next day looking ill.

Bard sighed, then shrugged. “Aye, I know. It tastes great though. I'm happy you had a good time,” he said. “Did you get nice gifts?

“Some new clothes, and books!” Thranduil said, clapping his hands. He was very satisfied with what his father had brought him back from his travels, and couldn't wait to read the stories that were waiting for him in his room.

“I have something for you, too,” Bard said, sounding like he had been waiting for this, and Thranduil looked down curiously to the hand Bard had kept closed until then. “Close your eyes.”

Thranduil did. He felt something being passed over his head and around his neck, and when Bard told him he could look, his smile only grew.

“It's so pretty,” Thranduil murmured, eyes widened in awe as he turned the pendant between his fingers.

“I made it myself,” Bard said. “There are pearls, and a shark teeth. Do you like it?”

“I love it,” Thranduil assured him. “Thank you.”

Without a second thought he kissed Bard on the cheek; at once blush spread over the merboy's face, making Thranduil laugh. He thought he was probably a bit red, too. He didn't know what had come over him, but what Thranduil did know was that he didn't regret it at all.

Bard clasped his hands together, looking down at them. He was still blushing hard, but his eyes were bright when he dared glance Thranduil's way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chap might take a little while; I had an idea for an additional scene, and there are lots of changes I have to do. :3 
> 
> alSO about the tail thing with Bard... my beta (aka [Iza](http://piyo-13.tumblr.com) ♡) and I noticed it might... come off as sexual, which it absolutely isn't. Let's say a mer's tail is like... boobs. boobs are pretty, boobs aren't a sexual thing in the first place, but you probably wouldn't let just anyone touch your boobs. There you go xD (does what I'm saying even make any sense)
> 
> Please let me know if you've enjoyed this chapter? It would mean an awful lot to me! :D


	3. Aged 15 to 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for making you wait a year... to be honest I didn't mean to pick this story up again. I wrote this chapter and the next one almost two years ago and I just didn't feel them. But over the past months I've kept thinking about this story and I thought it'd be a shame to let it take the dust in my folders, never to be read by anyone. So I got to work on this one, tried to fix it as best I could, and there we go! It might feel a bit different than my most recent stuff though, since it's still writing from two years ago. 
> 
> This is mostly a lot fluff, sappy teenage love and all, so book your dentist appointment already. 
> 
> Many many thanks to [Liz](http://johnsmoore.tumblr.com) who edited this thing <33

A year later found them in the same spot, under similar circumstances. Thranduil's father had come home a few days earlier, and Thranduil had found refuge inside the cave; he’d had enough of the talks involving his future as a tapestry merchant.

When Thranduil told Oropher that he didn't yet know what to make of his life, but that he wanted to travel across the world, he was dismissed with the wave of a hand. He had left the house with the image of Oropher heaving out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. Thranduil knew he worried his father, but couldn't bring himself to care. He would find his path, but it wouldn’t be the one Oropher was tracing for him.

He and Bard were relaxing in the water. Bard hummed a song of his people as Thranduil braided his hair. His eyes were closed, and his face slightly turned towards the sunlight streaming through the canopy of the cave. Thranduil thought he was very beautiful. 

“How were your lessons today?” Bard asked then, not moving an inch. “As boring as usual?”

“No,” Thranduil said. “Ada replaced Lawson today, so they sounded more interesting.”

Bard smiled. He absently traced patterns on Thranduil's knee from the tip of his fingers, his tail slowly swaying under the water.

“There's no way you could ever meet my dad, but—do you think I could meet your mother?” Thranduil suddenly asked.

Bard's eyes shot open, and he turned to face him, an amused look on his face. “Mam? Maybe someday. She doesn't know yet. I don't want her to worry about me,” Bard said. “But when she will, she'll come here herself, just you wait and see.” Bard leaned his side against Thranduil's chest. “It shouldn't take long,” he added. “She's not stupid, she knows I'm hiding something.”

“Do you think she'll be mad?” asked Thranduil.

“At first,” Bard said. “Then she'll remember I've never come home hurt. It'll be fine.”

Thranduil slowly nodded. “I'd love to see your home.”

“I wish I could show you, too,” Bard sighed.

“Isn't there an evil merwitch who could turn my legs into a nice tail?”

At that, Bard laughed, nudging Thranduil's shoulder. “Sure. You're ridiculous.” This he said, but there was something else that Thranduil caught in his voice: a sort of longing, like an unspoken wish they both shared, but knew to be impossible.

Thranduil couldn't live under the sea, and Bard couldn't live on land. If they were to stay together, it had to be where one could meet the other. Like here. 

This couldn't go on forever, Thranduil knew that. Someday, his father would take him on the family boat, and he would not be able to see Bard for a very long time—this mere thought brought tears to his eyes.

Thranduil saw in Bard's expression that he knew well which thoughts Thranduil's mind bore. Bard reached out towards his cheek and brushed a lock of hair away. Then, Bard turned enough so that he could bring Thranduil in a warm embrace, so tight that Thranduil thought it would never end.

  


~•§•~

  
Yet another year passed and Thranduil, just like Bard, was growing up fast. His voice was getting deeper, his body was changing, and he was as tall as Lawson now.

With it, his confidence grew, and when his father came home once again, Thranduil took his courage into both hands. He had kept his secret long enough, and even though Galadriel shared it with him in silence, it was still an heavy weight on his shoulders. Hiding Bard from Lawson was one thing, but hiding him from Oropher was another. 

He needed to ask.

And Thranduil did, once he and Oropher sat in the gardens surrounding their home. It had been a long day of lessons, which Thranduil had thought to be quite enjoyable. His father was in a particularly good mood today.

“Ada?” Thranduil took a deep breath. “Have you ever seen merpeople?”

Oropher slowly turned his head towards him, raising an eyebrow. “Yes. From afar, but yes.”

“Do you think they're parasites, too?”

“No,” Oropher said at once, and Thranduil dared to hope. Too fast. “That being said—they may look like us, but I don't think they're more clever than the other beasts of the sea. I just know from experience that they're not the food stealers that people say they are.”

Thranduil looked down at his hands, torn between relief and disappointment at his father’s words. His opinion wasn't as bad as Thranduil had feared, but he knew his father well; his mind wouldn't be swayed easily. It was still too dangerous to mention Bard, though he didn't believe Oropher would try anything against him. However, if Lawson came to hear about it—no, he couldn’t risk it.

“Why do you ask, son?”

“I'm just curious about them,” Thranduil said. “So you don't think we should kill them?”

“No. I think every living thing deserves to live, as long as they are not a threat to us. Merpeople aren't, as much as I can say,” Oropher said, and his gaze lingered on the horizon, something nostalgic tainting it. “Your mother thought this way, too. She had a kind soul.”

Thranduil nodded. It wasn't what he had wanted to hear, but knowing this was soothing for his soul. At least Oropher didn't want any harm to come to Bard's people. It was better than nothing, and he took all the comfort he could get from it.

Oropher turned back to his son then. “You've inherited a lot from her,” he said, his voice gentle.

Thranduil cracked a smile. It wasn't the first time his father told him so, and like all the times before, he didn't know what to say. However, they were words he always loved to hear and remember.

His father deserved to know the truth, but Thranduil didn’t feel quite ready yet. But one day—one day when Lawson wouldn’t be around anymore, Thranduil would tell him.

They stayed there for a while longer, talking of whatever crossed their minds, from merpeople, to memories, and even a few stories. Oropher would leave at dawn, and Thranduil wanted to make the most out of their given time together. Each moment he spent with his father was precious, no matter how they disagreed regarding Thranduil’s future; a subject that was never brought up during such bittersweet moments.

Oropher's departure came far too fast, and Thranduil watched the boat sail away with a heavy heart as the sun slowly went up above the horizon.

Back at the house, Lawson was waiting for him to close the doors. He didn't seem pleased, and Thranduil guessed why it was so; he had complained to Oropher about his tutor's habits a few hours earlier, and there was no doubt Oropher had set new rules. Gritting his teeth, Thranduil proceeded to walk past him, ignoring the hostile glare which was directed towards him. He would pay the price for speaking up soon enough, but Lawson was more clever than he let notice; he would wait for the right opportunity.

It came during one of Thranduil's lessons about sailing and sea life, a few days later. His hand clenched into a fist, and Thranduil fought with all of his might against the urge to confront Lawson, who took a malicious pleasure in speaking words he knew would hurt Thranduil; speaking ill of his future, but mostly of his interest in the merpeople.

It was in those moments that Thranduil regretted his decisions as a child, to ask Lawson questions or anyone else in the house about the merpeople. The word had spread, and if it had been months since Thranduil had last spoken of them, it wasn't something Lawson was likely to forget.

“I'd almost think you'd like to be one of them,” Lawson was saying, disgust in his voice. “I don't see why you would. They're no more than big, unintelligent fish.”

“You know nothing about me,” Thranduil said through gritted teeth. _Nor them_ , he retained himself from adding.

“I know you like those things. That's enough for me.”

“I was a kid. I was curious,” Thranduil retorted. “It doesn't mean I like them.”

Lawson raised an eyebrow at this. Thranduil doubted he believed him, but at least he didn't further add anything, and changed the subject, though he always managed to find something to say that would make Thranduil harden his grip on his pen, and the hand on his lap to clench into a fist.

It was hard to ignore him, but eventually Thranduil managed to keep his thoughts to himself. 

That is, until Lawson crossed a line which Thranduil couldn’t let him cross without confrontation.

As he began to get up to leave at the end of the lesson, Lawson said, “At this rate, you'll never be good at anything. Just like—” He paused, as though he was about to say something he was particularly proud of. “Just like your mother.”

Thranduil froze at the sudden mention of his mother, feeling his blood run cold as his clenched fists turned white. He slowly looked up towards Lawson, cold anger radiating in his eyes.

There were limits to his patience. Limits to his tolerance. 

“You have no right to speak of her, you disgusting piece of sh—”

Thranduil didn't see the slap come, but he felt it, and hard. It nearly knocked him out of his chair, sending waves of uncomfortable heat throughout his face.

In a swift motion Thranduil stood up, his hand resting on his cheek and temple. They stared at each other like wild cats. And then, Thranduil ran without a look behind.

He ran to the only place he knew he would feel safe, through the walls of his home and into the open air. He couldn't stand it anymore; he had to get some air.

Tears rolled down his cheeks before he could even think about holding them back. His father had left him alone once again, not to return for a long while, and his mother had been gone for a very long time now. Lawson just couldn't leave him alone; always cruel, always aiming to make him feel miserable and unworthy about himself. Maybe it was true—maybe he really was good at nothing at all. He had always known that he would be a disappointment to his father, but hearing it made all the difference.

He ran through the forest, taking a path he knew would make it impossible for him to be followed. Even through his unleashed anger and sorrow, he wouldn't take any risk that would inevitably put Bard’s life in danger.

The sun was high up in the sky, and even through the canopy of the trees blocking out the harsh rays of sunlight, sweat was quick to run down his temples and down over his back. Blood pounded in his ears as his feet pelted against the Earth’s floor. Thranduil couldn’t see straight through the tears clouding his vision, but he knew where he was going.

When at last he reached the cave, Thranduil paused, taking in a deep breath, which he choked on a little before moving forward. Once inside, he went for his usual rock, but he fell onto his knees before he could reach it, his hands trembling and pained sobs rattling through him. There was water up to his belly, but he couldn't care less.

He had never cared much about any of the awful things Lawson had told him before, had never taken into account his opinions, but maybe, in the end, Lawson was right. Maybe all that he was, was a failure, and even his mother would disapprove of how he wished to live his life; with the wind brushing against his face and sweeping through his hair, the sand under his feet and between his toes, and the water around him. Bard's smile welcoming him after a long day of loneliness, surrounded by people who didn't understand him.

He didn't move from where he had fallen onto his knees.

What felt like hours had passed when suddenly Thranduil heard movement in the water. His tears had dried by now, but his face still pained him, along with his heart.

“Thran, what happened?” the question was spoken quietly. The worry in Bard's voice filled the cave, and soon enough there were comforting arms around his shoulders.

“It's nothing,” Thranduil said. “Just leave it, Bard.”

“You're hurt!” Bard protested. Thranduil felt the tip of Bard's fingers linger on the side of his face. “How can you expect me to just 'leave it'?”

“I said leave it, Bard!” Thranduil repeated, his tone rising as he felt tears stinging at the corners of his eyes once more, threatening to roll down onto his cheeks. “What can you do anyway—it's not as if you can stand up and beat him up, can you?”

Bard fell silent beside him, but his fingers were still stroking his hair. Thranduil couldn't help but lean into the gentleness of his friend’s touch, for he found comfort in it. He hadn't meant to sound harsh, but the words had been said before he could choose how to voice them.

“We can at least talk about it,” Bard said softly. He wasn't mad; he always knew how to act in times when Thranduil was distressed. “Thran, please look at me.”

And Thranduil did; he slowly turned his head to meet the hazel of Bard's eyes, which stared intently back at him. Then, his friend leaned forwards, placing a light kiss onto his bruised temple, and Thranduil's breath caught in his throat.

Only then did Thranduil allow himself to cry, and he let himself fall into the comfort of Bard's arms, burying his face against Bard’s neck.

Bard held him, for as long as was needed. He murmured quiet words into his ear, stroked his hair, and let his fingers rub slow circles on his shoulders.

He didn't ask for what happened, and for a moment Thranduil thought he wouldn’t need to share it with Bard. He thought it was stupid, unworthy of the attention. He was ashamed of what had been said.

But once he felt himself beginning to settle down and breathe easier, soothed by Bard's warmth and faced to the concern in his eyes, he couldn’t hold it back. They had always shared everything, never judging one another. Bard was nothing like Lawson; if there was someone who would at least try to understand him, it would be Bard.

“He wouldn't stop,” Thranduil breathed. “He wouldn't stop saying cruel things of your people. I managed to ignore him like I always did before. But then, he talked of my mother, he had never dared before, and I—”

“You didn't let it go.”

“No,” Thranduil said. He shook his head, casting his eyes down to his hands. Bard took them into his. “He was waiting for this after Ada restricted his control on me and the house, I know that.”

“Get him fired,” Bard said, even more softly, though his tail betrayed the true nature of his thoughts with a quick, harsh fidget that sent short ripples against the rocks. “Next time your father comes. Tell him of what happened. Don't let this go, Thran. He doesn't deserve to be let off easy.”

But Thranduil shook his head again, heaving out a heavy sigh. “I can't. I crossed a line, so he punished me. That's how things are.”

Shock painted Bard's face. “But—”

“I know,” Thranduil said. “It was the first time, and it will be the last, I promise. And if it isn't, I will mention it to my father when he returns. I swear on it.”

Bard didn't seem convinced, but he nodded nonetheless. Surely he thought it was better than letting it happen again repeatedly. This was unheard of to Bard's people, Thranduil had been quick to learn so; they didn't hurt each other, ever, and everybody was treated with respect.

“I don't like the thought of anyone hurting you,” Bard murmured, embracing Thranduil again. “I felt something was wrong. I just did, and I was worried.”

“I didn't want to worry you,” Thranduil said. “I'm sorry.”

“No,” Bard said. He cupped Thranduil's face between his hands, making their eyes meet. “There's nothing to be sorry for. You're here and you’ll be alright. That’s all that matters right now, okay?”

For the first time that day, Thranduil managed to crack a smile. This was what Bard did: he made him see the light in things when he couldn't find any himself. Even better; he was like a light of his own, a lighthouse Thranduil could reach out to for safety. He was more precious than any fine clothes or gems combined. Thranduil would fight and kill for him. He would do anything to protect him from harm.

And, as close as they were, Thranduil wanted to kiss him. He didn't, though. It wasn't right—it wasn't yet the time.

So, Thranduil spoke instead. He went over to sit on a rock for his clothes to dry before he’d have to head back to the house, all whilst telling Bard of what occupied his mind. Bard listened, his hands never letting go of Thranduil's as his fingers traced patterns upon his palms. He was like a constant anchor, or a lifeboat keeping Thranduil at bay. And he truly was, in a way.

Bard had told Thranduil once that he saw him in a similar light. That he was someone he could always lay his trust in, and who he could find comfort in. He had mentioned that he would follow him anywhere, even to the end of world, if need be. And though Thranduil had, for a long time, a hard time in believing Bard’s words to ever be possible, he was glad for it, for he would have hated having nothing as grand to give Bard in return.

After that day, Lawson never lay a hand on Thranduil again; Thranduil never let him have the occasion to do so. Thranduil would have never thought he would come to hate Lawson more than he always had before, but he was proved to be wrong everyday.

And so, another year went by.

Thranduil had turned seventeen, and celebrated his birthday in Bard's company. Six months later, they still laughed at the memory of how Thranduil had dropped the slice of strawberry cake he had brought back for lunch into the water. Simple things and simple memories, but no less precious.

Many days went by like this; quiet and sweet and filled with laughter. At least, those were the days which he he spent with Bard, or with Galadriel, though, those were a bit different. She came to visit less often, and during those times Thranduil didn't see Bard as much, but she had come for a week, and it was only two days after her departure that he and Bard saw each other again; Thranduil was sat in the water, with Bard's head resting in his lap when Bard suddenly straightened up and turned to face him.

He inspected his features in silence, his forehead creased in a light frown.

“What?” Thranduil said, raising an eyebrow. “What is it?”

“I'm thinking.”

“About what?”

“About you.”

Thranduil didn’t know how to respond to that. Despite himself, his heart started to beat more rapidly. He waited, his eyes never leaving Bard's face.

“You're like the sea: quiet and calm, mysterious but full of wonders,” Bard said at last, as he tucked a lock of Thranduil's hair behind his ear. “But would there be a storm, all you keep within would be unleashed without mercy.”

Thranduil was at a loss for words for a short instant. He was blushing, no doubt. “When did you become a poet, speaking such beautiful words?” he teased as soon as he brought himself back together enough, but Bard's words continued to war his heart, causing it to beat with that quiet strength he had grown used to over the months—the years even, perhaps. He didn't want to know just how red his cheeks were.

“You do know I always have, right?”

“Of course you didn't,” Thranduil said with a smirk, but then it softened and he gently stroked the back of Bard's hand. “But I have a few nice words for you, too.”

“Do you really?” Bard asked, his gaze sparkling with curiosity, along with that kind spark that Thranduil somehow knew was there just for him.

“Yes,” Thranduil said, with conviction. “You have _amazing_ facial hair.”

Bard scoffed, rolling his eyes. He had grown a light beard and a mustache, and didn't seem to be ready to ever get rid of them. Thranduil liked them a lot, and he had told Bard that many times, but he loved to tease him about them still.

Without warning, Bard pushed Thranduil onto his back; his head bumped against the soft, dry sand as a laugh escaped his throat. At once Bard dragged him further into the water before getting over him with the help of a strong push of his tail, crushing Thranduil under his weight and burying his head into the crook of Thranduil's neck, rubbing his chin there.

Thranduil only laughed more. “Stop it,” he said, “that tickles.”

He laughed, until he could barely breathe and his abdomen began to ache, and Bard laughed along with him. He felt as if he was on top of the world.

There were many moments like these, and Thranduil cherished them all.

But there was one day that turned out to be different from all the others. It happened not long after Thranduil had realized, as he stared into Bard's eyes and felt his breath against his neck, his laugh against his skin, that he felt something truly special towards him. It was something that he had felt for a long time, but just hadn’t felt ready to put words to it.

Thranduil loved Bard. He had loved him as a friend, at first. This he had never denied. But then, that love had started to take on another meaning, and Thranduil hadn't been sure how to understand it as of yet.

 _This was wrong_ , he had always thought. What would his father think? What would his mother have thought? He had often wondered about the answers to those questions, in those moments when Bard's light had blinded him, when his heart had raced faster than it had ever done so before, and it had been hard not to just close his eyes and kiss him.

 _Did Bard even feel the same?_ he had often asked himself.

Yet he loved Bard, more than he had ever loved anyone before, and it was the way he could recognize that love reflected in Bard's own eyes that was making it harder to keep the feeling to himself.

Thranduil had fought against it for a while, until he had woken up one night covered in his own sweat, and understood that he had wasted enough time; someday soon he would be forced to leave, and if he didn't act on his feelings now, maybe he would never have a chance to do so.

It didn't matter to him what other people would think, what they said was right or wrong. They didn't know, and they would never have to know. This was theirs and theirs only to share. His mother had always told him to trust his instincts, whatever made him happy, and this is what Bard did for him—made him feel happy. His joy was never brighter than when he took Bard’s hand in his, braided his hair, caressed his arm, spent long hours of bliss in his company. There was nothing quite like looking into his eyes or getting lost in his smile.

Thranduil had waited, resisted long enough. He would scream it to sky, if he could. He would tell the stars, and the sun, and the moon. He would tell everyone.

He couldn’t, but there was someone he could tell.

And so, Thranduil went to find Bard three days later, full of hope and promises. They spent the day together like any other, and it only comforted Thranduil in his decision.

“There's a place I'd like to share with you,” Thranduil told him when the night came. “But it is further than here, away from the sea—how long can you stay out of the water?”

Bard poked his head to the side curiously. “If it's raining, as long as it does. But I wouldn't last long under the sun, half an hour I guess, maybe longer,” Bard explained. “But at night, long enough.”

“We'll wait for the rain then. We'll stay over there, and come back at night.”

“You'll get yourself into trouble, Thran,” Bard told him gently, though Thranduil knew he was excited at the idea of being shown things none of his kind had seen before.

“I'm seventeen. As long as I make it in time to my lessons the next day, I'll be okay.”

Bard slowly nodded, before he took Thranduil's hand in his, and grinned. As he looked upon his face, Thranduil wanted to kiss him now more than ever; he wanted to feel if his lips were as soft as his skin, if they tasted of the sea. He didn't want to wait, but he also wanted it to be perfect.

Carried by the many books he’d read, Thranduil wished to remember his first kiss with Bard, and that was why he would kiss him somewhere special and different, and they would remember it all for the years to come.

It was a week later, after days and days following Lawson's boring lessons to which Thranduil woke up with a light noise in his ear sounding like a soft pitter patter; he was up in a flash, going for the window.

Rain.

It was raining.

He didn't think twice before he got dressed and ran down the stairs and out of the mansion; he had lessons today, but he didn't care. He felt as if he’d had enough of those for a lifetime, and it didn't rain that much on the island; it was a chance they couldn't miss.

Outside, the rain and the air were warm. Thranduil took a deep breath before he picked up his pace and walked faster down towards the beach, knowing Bard would be waiting for him there.

The rain was pouring down heavily over his tunic, soaking him to the bone; it was fine though, for Thranduil barely paid much attention to it. He just felt the thumping of his heart, a smile spreading on his face as he entered the cave and found Bard there, sitting on one of the rocks. It rained through the hole in the stone roof.

Bard’s face broke out into a wide grin as his eyes fell on Thranduil.

“Ready?” Bard said, and Thranduil ran up to him to place a kiss on Bard’s cheek, getting a light laugh out of him.

Thranduil picked him up like all those years ago, except everything was much different; they had known each other for a long time now, their mutual trust was strong, and Thranduil's feelings had grown into much more than he had imagined they ever would back when he was a child. He thought he had found a friend, then a best friend, and in the end, it was a different kind of love that had settled inside him over the years they had shared together.

Thranduil’s feelings had changed, and now he knew himself to have desperately fallen in love. Better, he had seen that same love reflected in Bard's eyes, and it had filled him with an indescribable happiness, stronger than the one he had felt since the first days.

Thranduil kissed Bard's cheek again, knowing his eyes to be sparkling with excitement as he headed out of the cave.

“You're so heavy,” Thranduil complained, and Bard laughed into his neck.

“Sorry?” he said. “It was your idea, wasn't it? Now face the consequences.”

“Oh shush you.” Thranduil rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling.

“Well, I—”

Bard didn't finish his sentence; Thranduil had just broken outside, and Bard's eyes widened in amazement as he saw the forest for the first time. High trees and plants of all kinds of green, spread out before them. The rain made it more difficult to see clearly, but it was enough for Bard to let out a 'woah' and look at Thranduil again with a wide, happy smile.

Bard didn't say a word the whole way; he just stared around in awe as he tried not to flap his tail in excitement, faced to a world he knew nothing about and that Thranduil offered him the privilege to see.

Thranduil carried him all the way to the spot. He couldn't wait to see how Bard would react upon seeing the cascade and its small pool, the plants and flowers all around it. He hoped he would find it as wonderful as he himself did. He hoped it would be special.

And it would be.

“It might take a little longer,” Thranduil told Bard, as they slowly approached their destination.

“Why?” Bard’s brows furrowed at Thranduil's smirk. “Why are you smiling like that?”

“You'll see,” Thranduil hummed.

“Thranduil—”

But Thranduil didn't listen, held Bard with a stronger grip and slightly accelerated his rhythm for the next few minutes. His arms were growing tired, but he knew they weren't that far anymore.

When he arrived close enough, he stopped and made a small move of his head towards his intended direction.

“Ready?”

Thranduil looked at Bard, and only then did he notice that he had stopped looking around; Bard was staring at him, but a confused expression painted his face.

“Ready for what?”

“The jump.”

“The jum—”

Thranduil shot him a grin, and just as Bard looked around to notice they were standing next to the end of a river at the top of a small cliff, Thranduil began running and, indeed, _jumped_.

They hit the water, only to emerge a few seconds later, Thranduil laughing like he’d made the prank of a lifetime.

“What was that?” Bard exclaimed, out of breath and splashing water into Thranduil's face. “You could’ve killed us!”

“No, I couldn't. I checked everything before the first time I tried it, and it’s not that high,” Thranduil told him, and Bard rolled his eyes. “Come on, look around.”

Bard slapped his arm with little force before he looked up to see his surroundings; the wonder that spread in his eyes was heartwarming to see.

“Thran—” Bard said in a breath. “This place is beautiful.”

But Thranduil barely listened. He heard himself say it was nothing, but all he could pay attention to was the light in Bard's eyes, how his wet, curled hair framed his face, and how he looked—how he looked _so_ beautiful here, under the rain in this little haven.

Before Thranduil could stop himself, he swam up to Bard and pushed him over to where he could stand, and there, he brought him into a tight, warm embrace that was returned without delay.

There they stayed for the whole day, enjoying the water and the sun once the rain faded to give place to the blue of the sky, Thranduil feeling as whole and peaceful as he’d ever been, and hoping Bard did, too.

Time flew by too fast; soon the stars were shining upon them, the air was filled with the sounds of the forest and the water of the cascade breaking at its bottom, just far enough not to be too loud. It was perfect in every way, and Thranduil could barely take his eyes off of Bard. But when he did to point at the stars and talk about them, it was Bard that he found watching him.

Bard said nothing, but he didn’t need to for Thranduil to understand what he had to do; even though he was now dry, he entered the water again to stop before his friend.

“Yes?” he asked, and he swore his heart was beating harder than ever before, threatening to burst out of his chest.

Bard raised his hand then, to let his fingers linger on the side of Thranduil's face like he so often did. There was a small smile on Bard’s lips when he leaned forwards to put his mouth right next to Thranduil's ear. 

Thranduil held his breath.

“I—,” was the first word whispered, but slowly, Bard backed away to inspect Thranduil's face, a worried look in his eyes. “Why are you—” Thranduil had barely realized he had frozen where he was; he had known at once what Bard had meant to say. “Listen, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—”

Thranduil didn't give him time to finish; he framed Bard's face between his hands and, ever so softly, kissed him. It was chaste and it was gentle, and held all the words he wished to say, along with the promise that they would be spoken soon enough. 

When Bard closed his eyes and kissed him back, the tension in his body disappearing, Thranduil let a hand run through his hair and onto his neck, the other on Bard's lower back. He felt Bard's hands cupping his face, ever so gently, and if Thranduil had never wanted to be anywhere else than by Bard’s side, it had never been more true than tonight. 

Bard's lips did taste of the sea, and they were indeed as soft as his skin was. It was everything Thranduil had dreamed of, and more. 

“I know,” Thranduil said, brushing their noses and grinning despite himself. “I love you, too.”

And this; Bard looking at him this way, his eyes full of the love he now dared to show fully, his cheeks and his lips slightly red, illuminated by the moonlight, was the most beautiful sight he'd ever had the chance to witness.

They longed to stay here, and Thranduil made sure they did for as long as he could allow it. Naively, he thought he could make it last forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for all the fluff, but honestly... I can't promise it'll stay that sweet forever, so enjoy it while you can. (:
> 
> I hope you liked this! Comments are my writing fuel. Even a few words would make my day!! It's never too late and even a tiny comment would be wonderful. Thank you so much for reading! <3


	4. Aged 17 to 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go :)
> 
> The 'Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings' warning applies in this chapter.
> 
> Big thanks to my friend [Liz](http://johnsmoore.tumblr.com) for the editing! <3

Two months went by, and it felt like bliss. Their joy had never seemed so bright.

Things weren’t much different, apart from the weight—but had it ever been one?—lifted from their shoulders that day. They had always been rather touchy, and so little more than the kiss they shared, be it to lips or jaw or neck, were new to them. It was a different kind of intimacy, but no less soft than what they had shared before through warm embraces and chaste kisses on their cheeks.

So this was what it had been for a long time—love. It felt incredible, to finally be able to call it this way, to act upon how he felt. And, every time Thranduil would look at Bard, he would see the same emotions reflected in his eyes. They were happier than they had ever been. Thranduil wouldn't say this was better than what they'd had before; it had been perfect in its own way and he could have lived like that forever, but this was different, and he was glad in the step which had been taken.

There were others, however, who wouldn't have seen things that way. Lawson was ever suspicious; despite himself, Thranduil's joy when visiting Bard and the one he felt when he came back from their meetings together was more difficult to conceal than Thranduil had thought it would be.

In consequence, Thranduil had to be more careful than ever. He took different paths and made sure Lawson wasn't following him nor observing which direction Thranduil was going that could ultimately lead to the cliff.

As always, the only person who knew of Thranduil's whereabouts was Galadriel. It took him some time to tell her that things had grown in a new way between Bard and him, but she had smiled knowingly, and Thranduil had felt himself blushing. Of course, she had guessed.

He confided in her with his worries as well; how Lawson kept an eye on him, often asking questions about where he was always heading off to, and how he wandered closer to the beach more often now. It wasn't so surprising; such a secret as having a secret merfolk friend was hard to keep under wraps. It was a miracle no one had figured it out over the past eleven years; things couldn't be easy to keep hidden forever.

“Are you afraid?” Thranduil asked Bard once. They were lying on the sand inside of the cave, looking up towards the sky through the opening over them. Thranduil's leg was underwater and resting over Bard's tail, an arm under his head as his other hand held Bard's.

“Of what?” Bard asked.

“Your people finding out.”

Bard shrugged. “Not really,” he said. “They could not stop me from coming here, but I think a lot of them would even like to meet you if I told them we've known each other for so long. They can see I'm still in one piece, don't they?”

Thranduil nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He rolled onto his side, and lifted himself up onto his elbow. Then, he placed a quick kiss onto Bard's lips.

“I wish I could say the same of my people.” Thranduil sighed, his smile falling. “And change their mind about you.”

Bard hummed pensively. “What made them believe all of this in the first place?”

“I don't know,” Thranduil said. “It goes back centuries, according to Galadriel. They just hate what they don't understand.”

Bard didn't answer, but he rolled onto his side as well. Their noses brushed, and they didn't say anything for a while.

“Surely there are others like you,” Bard eventually murmured. “You'll make them see.”

“Someday,” Thranduil murmured back. He wanted to, but he knew something else; he would have to leave, to make it happen, and this was a reality he didn't want to think about as of now. Besides, he didn't think anyone would believe a lonely teenager. It wasn't the time, but it would come, and when it did Thranduil would fight for it.

A smile stretched on his face, and he pushed Bard onto his back. Then he lay his head on his chest, and listened to the soft, steady beating of Bard's heart as his own hair was gently played with. There was nothing in the world he would exchange for peace like this.

But peace could not last forever, and the day came when it was brutally shattered.

It started with shouts coming from the beach as Thranduil left the house for his usual meeting with Bard. He had awoken late after a good night’s sleep that had gotten him ready to face another day of boring lessons, but Lawson was nowhere to be found, and Thranduil had assumed class was dismissed.

He had gone to the kitchens, taking some food to eat while he’d make his way to the cave, and it was with a light heart that he had stepped into the fresh, warm air of the gardens. He hadn't thought such a good feeling would be so short lived.

From afar Thranduil saw a fisherman's boat attached to the deck, and knew it to be the usual weekly delivery of fresh fish, but there was something different about it. Men were running along the deck, getting something large of a pale green caught in a net out of the water.

Thranduil's heart missed a beat. This couldn't be Bard—but it was still someone.

He quickened his pace, crossing the distance from the gardens to the end of the beach like his own life depended on it. His eyes hadn't failed him; they had caught someone. A mermaid, who was shamelessly thrown onto the deck under the laugh of the fishermen.

“What are you doing,” Thranduil shouted, his heart beating so hard it almost hurt, powered by fear. “Let her go—!”

His words fell in his mouth, and it tasted sour, as he realized the mermaid wasn't of this world anymore; her arms hung lifeless, and her hazel eyes were unseeing. Thranduil let out a gasp, and took a step back. A lump rose in his throat, and he couldn't remember the last time he had felt so sick, but he couldn't look at her any longer. 

He had seen those eyes before.

“—other one must be long gone by now,” Thranduil heard through the shock that had spread through him.

He ran.

Thranduil ran to the forest, making sure that no one was following him once hidden amongst the trees, and headed towards the cliff. His pulse was pounding at his temple. It had been Bard and his mother, Thranduil was sure of it. He wished he hadn’t been.

There was only one place Bard would have taken refuge, just like he and Thranduil had before all those years ago, and it was their cave.

Thranduil wiped the tears off his cheeks before he entered, making his way through the passage that led to their secret place. He hoped Bard had not been hurt, and fear clutched his chest some more. As he looked around Thranduil felt as if he had forgotten how to breathe.

In the shadows Thranduil found him. He was hidden in a corner, his arms closed around himself. His head lay against the stone, and his eyes were closed. His face was twisted with pain.

Thranduil couldn't bear the sight; but he didn't rush to Bard's side. He couldn't take the risk of frightening him. So Thranduil walked to him instead, each step slow and measured.

Thranduil reached out, but Bard's form only cowered more, squeezing his eyes shut harder. He was shaking like a leaf, along with the jolts caused by his sobs. Never had Thranduil seen him look so small, hurt, and terrified. There was a bleeding cut at his side, tainting the water in crimson.

“Bard, it's me,” Thranduil whispered. “I won't hurt you, you know I could never, ever hurt you.”

Bard gave a short nod of his head, but didn't move any more.

“I'm sorry,” Thranduil said. “I'll be right here, alright? I'm not going anywhere.”

Then, he turned back. Thranduil would not leave, but he would be of no immediate help; Bard needed some time on his own, and Thranduil didn't want to imagine how he felt.

Thranduil ignored how he managed seeing Bard like this without breaking down himself; all he wanted was to cradle him in his arms, and soothe all his pain away.

Besides, Bard’s cut worried him. He would gather some algae in the cave, and make a paste like Bard had shown him how to do once, when a few years before, he had cut open his knee against the rocks.

Once he had found the algae necessary to be used, Thranduil set it aside and sat down to wait. Until then he hadn't noticed how fast his heart was still beating. He was scared, like he hadn't been in a long time. He feared for Bard, who was a good, kind soul, who didn't deserve to go through such pain. He feared for Bard's safety, too; what had happened was yet another reminder of the world they lived in. Merpeople weren't safe, and Bard took a risk every time he got close to the shore.

With fear was hatred for his own kind, who killed what they didn't understand without mercy. Thranduil wished them all dead, for what they had done.

He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. He didn't know for how long he stayed there, but when he opened them again, his toes were wrinkled, and Bard had gotten out of the corner he had hidden in. His eyes, red from crying, were fixed on him.

“Can you hold me?” he asked in a whisper, looking down to his hands.

Thranduil didn't need to be asked twice. He picked up the algae, then walked close to Bard. He sat by his side, back against the rocks, and brought him into a soft, tight embrace. Thranduil kissed the top of his head.

Bard cried still, but his breath had calmed down. Meanwhile Thranduil rocked him gently, leaving kisses on his forehead and temple, and wiping out his tears. There was a weight on his own chest; he wished he could turn back time, and make it all alright. But it was no more than a fantasy that his fingers could never grasp onto.

Only when Bard stopped crying did Thranduil move his arms.

Thranduil worked the algae in a seashell, before he applied it to the wound on Bard's side with careful fingers. Bard winced, but didn't complain, and he said nothing for the hour which followed.

“She knew, you know. The second she saw me coming back that day. She said nothing for a while, and then someday, she told me that she would love to meet whoever made me so happy, no matter who it was,” Bard whispered, so quietly Thranduil almost didn’t hear him. “'Even if they are not like us?' I asked.”

Bard paused. He seemed lost in his thoughts.

“What did she say?” Thranduil asked softly. He squeezed Bard's hand.

“She just smiled,” Bard finally said. He started shaking, and his voice trembled, “I said I would take her to meet you. And—and now she—”

Thranduil hushed before Bard could finish his sentence. His stomach twisted unpleasantly. It was his fault, wasn't it? He bit his lip as he applied more of the paste, for safe measures.

“Don't you dare believe what I know you're thinking,” Bard breathed. “She wanted to learn all about you. I thought I could show her your home from afar. It was my fault; I've felt safe around here for so long that I forgot we would never be.”

Thranduil shook his head as he finished taking care of Bard's cut. “Don't say that,” he said, and embraced Bard again.

“Thranduil, your skin,” Bard said. His breath was warm against Thranduil's skin. “You should get dry.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Thranduil said. “It doesn't matter.”

Bard buried his face in the crook of Thranduil's neck. “Thank you,” he murmured, and Thranduil stroked his back, keeping him close. He wished there was more he could do to make him feel safe again.

“Do you remember when I told you you would make your people see?” Bard said quietly. “Will you do it? Do you promise me?”

Thranduil took a deep breath. He had always thought of this, but had never thought he was old nor brave enough to stay true to his word. It was the right thing to do of course, but a promise wasn't to be taken lightly, for Thranduil always kept them, no matter what.

Yet quickly his expression turned into a resolved one. Cupping Bard's face, Thranduil kissed him.

Then, Thranduil said, “I promise.”

  


~•§•~

  
Time, however, didn't give Thranduil an occasion to. Weeks flew by, settling a heavy weight onto his shoulders. Nights seemed longer, for there were many times he awoke in sweat, tormented by bad dreams of blood in water and open, unseeing eyes. He didn't speak of them to Bard, for he had enough to deal with on his own, but Thranduil knew he wasn't the only one to experience such nightmares.

Every day Lawson seemed to watch him more. Like everyone in the house, he had heard of what had happened at the deck; how Thranduil had protested, and then ran away. Lawson had hired three men, saying they were here to make sure of everyone's safety. Thranduil had asked him safety from whom, but got no good answer.

Thranduil knew well what they were here for. The men followed him until he managed to lose them, but there was nothing he could do about all of this, with his father gone for another few months. He had never dared speaking to him of Bard, even though he knew Oropher wouldn’t take it as badly as Thranduil had thought he would when he was a child.

It became harder, sneaking out to see Bard, and not a day passed when Thranduil didn't worry about their secret being revealed.

This Thranduil told Bard. “We should see each other less often,” Thranduil had said, his voice quieter than he had meant it to be.

Bard hadn't waited for even a second before saying no. “I need you,” he’d said. “You're all I have.”

Thranduil had shaken his head, his heart clenching, and looked away, hoping Bard wouldn't see the tears that threatened to trickle down his cheeks. Bard still cried for his mother; Thranduil often found him wiping his tears, and he didn't want to burden Bard with his own worry. His grief was already hard enough to bear.

Thranduil had tried to protest, but the mere thought of limiting their visits seemed to make Bard smaller, and he hadn't found it in himself to insist anymore. It was true; he was the only family Bard had left. Thranduil understood; with his father gone so long and so often, his world revolved around Bard, too. They kept each other sane. They made each other feel loved and cared for.

He couldn't leave Bard. Thranduil had been foolish to believe he could.

Over the months, things didn't get easier, but with use it felt like they did. Thranduil almost forgot about the men who tried to follow him through the woods. There were moments when it was just them again, and all the hurt in the world couldn't reach them. Such moments were precious; they went from falling asleep on the sand, Bard's head resting on Thranduil's stomach, from caresses and kisses, to nights looking up at the stars.

It had been a little more than a year now, since they had first kissed.

Thranduil hoped there would be many more years to come, but he wasn't naïve enough; he was in age to leave with his father, and it was only Oropher's respect for Thranduil's struggle, and his hope to see his son change his mind, that had saved Thranduil from leaving months earlier already. But even his father's patience had its limit.

He didn't wish to even think of it.

It was a sunny day of summer, and Thranduil went to find Bard with fruits in his arms; grapes, mostly, for he knew how much Bard had come to love them.

They ate together, massaged each other's back, swam together. The part of their lives they spent together was simple, and nothing else made them as happy as they were in those moments.

They were close, hands resting on each other lower back, exchanging soft kisses and enjoying these small moments of quiet joy which were only their own to share, when it happened.

Bard had frozen in their kiss, slowly moving his head away, and Thranduil was close enough to see terror making its way to his eyes. It felt like a cold shower on a very hot day; Thranduil's blood ran cold in his veins, and Bard's grip on him tightened.

Thranduil didn't need to look, to know their greatest fear had found them outside of their nightmares.

“Thran—” Bard said, but didn't get a chance to finish.

“What do we have here?” Lawson's voice resonated on the cave's walls, and Thranduil's heart beat faster in a whole different way than it had been until then.

His eyes met Bard's. He tried hard to not give away the fear that was spreading inside him as well.

Panic had been quick to take hold of Bard; he was already trembling under Thranduil's touch, his eyes widened in fear. Thranduil's hands framed Bard's face, and he put a quick kiss to his forehead. He ignored the sounds of disgust behind him.

Turning around meant losing eye contact with Bard, but he had to be brave.

And so, Thranduil slowly did, keeping his hands and arms behind him, keeping Bard close and making a shield with his body; if they wanted to hurt Bard, they'd have to get through him.

There were four men inside the cave, armed with pistols pointing right at him—right at Bard. Would he try to dive in and make a run, Bard would be shot, and that realization made Thranduil feel all his own fear building up stronger inside him.

His gaze turned as cold as ice when it met Lawson's, but he knew he had lost enough of his composure; he was imagining a thousand scenarios, and none ended well.

“How disgusting,” Lawson spat then. “I knew you were hiding something, but this? You've fallen further down than I had cared to imagine.”

Thranduil said nothing, but held his gaze. His grip on Bard grew tighter.

“Being _intimate_ with this thing.” Lawson's disgust showed on his face, and if Thranduil didn't value his opinion, it still made him sick. “And a male at that!*”

Lawson laughed then, as if all this was nothing more than a bad joke.

“You're a disgrace to your family,” he said. “Oropher will love to hear about this. You need help, kid.”

Thranduil’s blood boiled with anger, but he didn't pay Lawson's words as much attention as he gave to the harsh, fast beating of Bard's heart against his back.

He had to be brave. Braver. He wasn't sure he could—

“Step aside,” Lawson abruptly ordered. “Now.”

“No.”

“Step. Aside.”

“ _No._ ”

“Fine.” Lawson's face twisted into a grimace, then gestured to the both of them. “Gentleman, separate them.”

In one swift motion Thranduil had turned to make his hold on Bard stronger and closer; Bard sank into it, his whole body shaking. Bard wasn't a coward, Thranduil knew so; he also knew there was nothing they could do, that if someone was to get hurt or worse, it was Bard, not him.

It was all happening too fast.

“I won't let you go,” Thranduil repeated. “I love you, I won't let you go—”

But as he said these words there were arms closing around him, and he was forcefully drawn back. Thranduil hung still, keeping his arms around Bard in a strong grip and ignoring the pain as they tried to detach them from each other.

“Please, I love you, please—” was all Bard said, and Thranduil didn't have to hear more to know what it was that Bard was asking: ‘don't leave me.’

Thranduil hung tight for as long as he could. He hung tight, an arm around Bard's waist and the other hand keeping the side of his head against his own.

But then Lawson sent another man, who circled them and caught Bard instead. He was hurting him, Thranduil could see. They were strong and he wasn't, and he screamed in rage as they finally managed to separate them, as he saw that man hit Bard's head so he would stop struggling, as he saw blood flowing slowly down the side of his head. Lawson got closer, stepping on the fragile fins of his tail, and Bard let out a strangled sob. 

“Please, leave him alone!” Thranduil implored. “I'll do anything, I'll never see him again, just let him go, I beg of you!”

“ _It_ 's a parasite,” Lawson spat, his pistol now pointed on Bard who desperately called Thranduil's name as he was held still by the other, silent man. “And parasites are gotten rid of.”

“BARD!” Thranduil cried, and the terror he saw in Bard’s gaze as their eyes met made tears flow freely down in cheeks. “Please—please!”

But Lawson just aimed, smirked in victory, and the shot broke through the cavern, resonating all around, and through Thranduil's ears.

The man let go at once, Bard's body went limp, and as it met the water, it slowly took a red shade that impregnated Thranduil's mind like a disease. And in that instant, Thranduil felt it; he felt his heart and soul break, the both of them shattered and washed away.

“Bard, _Bard!_ ” Thranduil screamed, and he screamed again until his throat was sore and he couldn't help but choke on his sobs. He didn't know how he found the strength to fight back, to try and get away, to go to Bard and tell him to move and to run.

But Bard, half-floating there in water and blood, didn't move despite Thranduil's cries. Even as Lawson got closer and nudged at Bard with the tip of his pistol, there was no reaction. He didn't open his eyes. Nothing.

“Don't touch him!” Thranduil spat, his voice broken but all his anger and sorrow tainting it. He felt as if the world had stopped.

Dead.

Bard was dead. Bard was gone and he was to blame.

Another strangled, desperate cry escaped Thranduil's lips as he tried to slip through the man's fingers.

But the arms holding him back were strong and taking him further away with each precious second. Thranduil didn't stop. He screamed until his throat was dry, fought to get to Bard, to hold him in his arms as if it would fix it all.

And then, he broke free, and ran forward.

Lawson aimed his weapon at him. Pain shot through his leg, and he fell to his knees, into the water.

The last thing he saw before he was knocked out of consciousness was his blood, mingling with Bard's.

  


~•§•~

  
When Thranduil woke up, he was in his room. He felt numb, and his leg hurt though it was bandaged just above his knee. He looked around, blinking slowly, before he sat on the edge of the bed. He couldn't remember ever having such a strong headache, and couldn't explain the pain in his chest, the crippling anxiety that was rushing through him.

It was only when his eyes found the sea, that the memories returned. At once Thranduil thought he couldn't breathe anymore, and he gasped for air. He went to stand, but his knees couldn't hold him. They met the ground in a thud.

Thranduil wanted to scream, but all that came out of his mouth was a broken sob. He wasn't crying for the pain in his leg; he cared little for it. He cared little for anything but for who he had lost.

Everything went black again.

Thranduil had been put back to bed, when he regained consciousness. A crutch had been left against the wall. There was a tray with food and water on the bedside table, and his bandage had been changed. Without doubt the door had been locked from the outside.

Turning his back on the door, Thranduil curled into a fetal position, and cried until he had no more tears to shed. Bard's name wouldn't leave his lips.

He couldn't remember the last time he had been so tired. It was like all of his strength had left his body, just as much as from his mind. He wanted to sleep. Perhaps it would be for the better, to not wake up at all.

During the days that followed Thranduil was inconsolable, though he only cried at night. He let a nurse make sure his leg wasn't getting infected, and he was quickly reassured that he would walk again as soon as the wound was completely healed. Thranduil couldn't find it in himself to care.

“It was my fault,” he would tell them, and they would smile sadly.

“I'm sorry for your loss,” Miss Anderson told him once as she brought him a plate. In other circumstances, the condolences would have been unwelcome. But the lady's voice had been soft, and Thranduil hadn't thought anyone in the house would care about the fate of someone the world hated and saw as no more than a creature of the sea.

Maybe not the whole world, Thranduil had realized, and he had thanked her.

Over those few days Thranduil was often scolded by the maids, for he barely ate. It wasn't really his choice; he just wasn’t hungry.

Lawson never came to visit, which was a good thing. Thranduil thought he would kill him, if he dared stepping inside the room Thranduil was locked in.

However, Galadriel did. Her face was serious, and there was no smile to brighten her face as she peaked her head inside the room. It was closed behind her as soon as she got in. She went to sit at the end of the bed without a single word. Thranduil watched her from the window where he stood, leaning on his crutch.

Thranduil said nothing at first. He had so much and so little to say at the same time. He breathed in deep, and exhaled shakily.

“I didn't know you were coming,” he said, still not looking into her eyes. Thranduil feared he would break down, if he did.

“I heard of what happened.”

“Ah.”

“Thranduil.” He looked up at her. “It wasn't your fault.”

Thranduil bit his lower lip, and shook his head. His grip on the crutch tightened. He looked away.

Suddenly there was a presence by his side, and a comforting hand on his shoulder. Before he could stop himself, Thranduil turned to her, and closed his arms around her chest. At once he began sobbing.

“I led them to him,” Thranduil cried into Galadriel's arms. The way she stroked his back was soothing, but it didn't take any of the pain away. “I led them to him, now he's gone and it _is_ my fault!”

“No, it wasn't,” Galadriel said. “You've been careful, and you both knew the risks. Your father never authorized Lawson to hire those men, and by shooting you he condemned himself. It'll be over soon.”

“Does it matter?” Thranduil said through gritted teeth. He tried unsuccessfully to wipe the tears off his cheeks. “It's too late. It won't bring him back.”

Galadriel didn't answer this, but she hummed a song until his breath calmed down and his tears stopped.

“What have they done with him?” Thranduil asked. How he hated to talk of Bard this way. He deserved more than this.

“I do not know,” Galadriel said. “I heard they left him there, so I've gone to look, but he was gone. His people must have found him.”

 _Yes,_ Thranduil thought, _they must have smelled the shed blood of their own._ He found little comfort in the thought, but it was better than knowing Bard's body had been left to rot in the place that had been more of a home to them than anywhere else.

Then Galadriel led him to the bed, and made Thranduil sit. She was a good listener. She lay an open ear to Thranduil's words, her eyes not leaving his as he told her what had happened. Wording it all wasn't easy; often he had to pause to gather himself back together.

When Thranduil had said enough, silence fell between them. It wasn't uncomfortable, but it wasn't quite like the ones he used to share with Bard. Thranduil looked down to his hands. It was hard, to keep memories at bay when they hurt so much. Meanwhile, Galadriel retrieved the bread covered in jam from the tray, and handed it to him.

“Eat,” she said.

“I'm not hungry.”

“Would Bard want this?”

Thranduil shuddered; it was harsh. His breath got stuck in his throat. It was the first time she spoke Bard's name. He didn't have to think twice before answering; he knew she was right. Bard would scold him for not taking care of himself.

“No.”

“Eat,” she said again.

Reluctantly, Thranduil did.

“I've sent word to your father,” Galadriel said gently when he was done. “He’s not far, and will be home soon.”

Was it a good, or a bad thing? Thranduil couldn't tell, but a part of him was relieved; he longed for another familiar face. Oropher would be angry, this was for sure. 

But at Lawson he would be angrier.

Over the three weeks that passed, much of Thranduil's grief quieted, though it always was there. It didn't stop him from sleeping, but he still woke from bad dreams, and his pain lingered under the surface. Sometimes he would see something that reminded him of Bard, and the shell he was building around himself would crack, and he was sure his sobs could be heard through the whole mansion.

There was nothing easy about all this, but Galadriel had been right; Bard wouldn't have blamed him. However, he would have been mad if Thranduil had given up. He remembered how Bard had been strong when his mother was taken away from him. It had been hard, but he’d kept his head high. Thranduil would do the same.

Besides, he had a promise to keep.

Thranduil always wore the necklace Bard had given him on his fourteenth birthday. He didn't even take it off to bathe anymore; it was the only thing Thranduil had left from him, and he wouldn't be parted from it.

The day Oropher came home was the first day Thranduil had been invited to come downstairs; strangely, Lawson had disappeared somewhere in the house, like a mouse hiding from a cat. It filled Thranduil with bitterness; Lawson could kill someone, but he was too much of a coward to face his mistakes.

Thranduil was dreading the reunion with his father. He didn't know what to expect, and he knew himself to still be fragile. He walked down the stairs using his crutch, which he needed though he could feel that soon he would get rid of it. His wound was healing well. For that, he was lucky.

He had been told Oropher was waiting for him in the main hall. He’d been told of everything that had happened by Galadriel, and Thranduil was nervous when he stepped in.

There in the middle of the hall, Oropher turned on his heels. Thranduil froze where he stood.

There was nothing but worry in his father's eyes. They went up and down his frame, stopping for a short moment on the crutch Thranduil leaned on. Thranduil thought he saw a flash of anger in Oropher's eyes, and this he could tell; his father’s anger wasn't directed at him. Some of the weight on his shoulders lessened, and Thranduil let out a breath he didn't know he’d been holding.

But still the weight of Oropher's gaze crushed him down, in a much different way. There was much they needed to talk about. Thranduil had kept many secrets, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know how his father felt about them.

“Ada, I—” he tried, but his words fell in his mouth. Oropher had held up a hand, instructing him to stop speaking.

There was a long silence before he spoke, and when he did Thranduil held his breath. “You were having a relation with one of those creatures?” he asked. Oropher didn't seem to believe what he himself was saying. Thranduil hated how his voice gave nothing more away than surprise; it could mean anything.

It was tactless—the words hit him hard. Oropher didn't mean ill, and Thranduil was still more fragile than he had thought he was. He wasn't dealing as well as one could have believed.

Bard wasn't a creature. He was a somebody. His friend. His lover. And he was gone.

“His name was Bard,” Thranduil breathed. He had no strength to argue; faced again to the cruel truth of Bard's death, he didn't know how he was even standing. “He was my friend. And I loved him.”

“You, what—” For a second Thranduil thought he was going to be yelled at, at last. Perhaps Galadriel had thought better not to tell Oropher of the nature of his and Bard's relationship. Thranduil didn't care about being disowned, or thrown out of his home. He had never wanted it all, and his home had been with Bard. He cared, however, about not losing his father too, because he loved a merboy. A parasite boy, as they said.

“I'm sorry,” Thranduil breathed. “Ada, I'm so tired.”

Thranduil sank to his knees, pain spreading through his leg as he buried his face in his hands and let tears wet his cheeks once again. There was so much he could take at once. His world had been turned upside down. If even his father wouldn't support him, who would?

But, for once, Thranduil was wrong.

“Oh, my son,” Oropher whispered into Thranduil’s ear as he felt strong arms enclose around him into a gentle embrace. “It’s me who's sorry.”

This made Thranduil pause, his eyes slightly widening. “You're not mad?” he asked quietly. “You don't hate me?”

“No,” he said. Oropher made Thranduil look at him, and his eyes were calmer than the sea on a quiet summer’s day. “Come on now, and tell me everything.”

Thranduil was led to his bedroom, still shaken by Oropher's reaction. He didn't know what to think of it. The last thing he had expected was understanding, and here he was being offered more of it than he believed he deserved.

Once the door closed, Thranduil spoke. He told his father everything, all that he remembered; from his meeting with Bard on the beach, to the cave where they had met for years in secret, to telling Galadriel, from the blooming of their feelings to their first kiss, and the death of Bard's mother, and finally how all had went downhill from there.

When Thranduil was done, Oropher said little. He just looked at his son, and there was something sad in his eyes. Melancholy, too.

Of course; he knew how this felt. He had lost Thranduil's mother, too, many years ago. How could Thranduil have forgotten?

Then, Oropher embraced him. Thranduil understood then that his father wouldn't say anything; his presence was more than any words could express.

It was Thranduil, who broke the silence. “What now?”

It could mean many things, but there was no more to be said.

“It'll take time, and that’s alright,” Oropher said. “It doesn't make you weak. Will you remember that?”

Thranduil nodded.

“You should get away from here for a while,” Oropher added, his voice soft. “Accompany me. It will change your mind.”

Looking to the horizon through the window, Thranduil bit the inside of his cheek. He had no doubt Oropher meant well, but he knew how this would end; he would never come back, and he would make of his life what his father had always hoped he would.

Yet, Thranduil felt resigned. He couldn't stay here; everything hurt, and he was further away from Bard than ever. What he needed was to be close to him, and far away all the same.

The decision was quickly taken: he would go.

It was on the next morning that Thranduil heard them. The only reason he didn't enter the room was because he wasn't sure what he would do to one of the men inside, if their eyes came to meet. He wasn't ready to see the man who had murdered Bard—things were painful enough as they were.

“You're his tutor, but Thranduil's the master of this house,” Oropher was saying, his voice harsh and unforgiving. “You shot my son, executed his friend. You should deem yourself lucky I haven’t killed you on the spot.”

“His ‘friend’? My Lord, it was nothing more than a beast—”

“He was not to my son!” Oropher roared. Thranduil could almost see Lawson cowering in on himself. “Be gone, before I have your head!”

There was no answer, but moments later the door was shut with great force. It was over, many would have said. Thranduil didn't share such a thought, but as of now it was more than he could have hoped for. Wherever he would go, Lawson was finished, and just like Thranduil, he had lost everything, in his own way.

Thranduil walked away. He walked to the gardens, and stopped as he breathed in the fresh air. He lay eyes on the beach, and heaved out a sigh. His hand went to clench around the pendant hanging from the cord at his neck. 

He brought it to his lips, and kissed it. 

Then, he closed his eyes.

~•§•~

  
Thranduil lay a cold gaze on the beach. He had believed it to be his home for a long time. A lie, it had been, for his home had been with Bard, and Bard wasn’t here anymore. There was nothing left for him here; only pain and regrets and memories that did nothing but deepen his wounds.

He got on the ship by his father's side, who put a hand on his shoulder; it was meant to be comforting, but all Thranduil could feel was how cold everything seemed to be. The world was grey and his feet were heavy. He was tired, always so tired.

They set sail, and he didn't look back.

All Thranduil was sure of was that he had left his heart back in the cave under the cliff, submerged under the crimson water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (*Gay relationships were not badly seen in this AU, but well, Lawson's the king of assholes, so.)
> 
> Don't hate me? But feel free to yell at me, I won't mind at all. :p


	5. Aged 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took a while, but here's the first half of the second part! 
> 
> Big big thanks to [the amazing Liz](http://johnsmoore.tumblr.com) for the editing!! <3

The wind pushed the ship through the waves of the never ending ocean; at least, it felt like it knew no end. There was more water than the eye could catch, and until land appeared on the horizon, it seemed the world was nothing but the blue of the sea, and, on a summer’s day, the blue of the sky, too. 

Seagulls flew by the boat's side, sometimes diving into the water with their beak holding fish that was quick to be swallowed. 

It was a sight Thranduil never got tired of. He liked getting lost in it; it was of great help in making him feel at peace when too many thoughts burdened his mind. The life Thranduil lead brought much to worry about: getting to his destination in time, making good sales so he could sail again with food and supplies for weeks of travel—but, most importantly, having enough medicine. 

Promises had always been important to Thranduil, and he had always kept them. 

His boat wasn't just selling tapestries, and it was no secret to his small crew; they had all joined the Eryn Lasgalen because of what Thranduil hid under his deck—but none knew about Bard, Thranduil not wishing to speak of him to anyone but himself again. 

“We've freed the last one, Captain,” a young man said as he appeared in Thranduil's line of sight. “She thanks you for your help.”

Thranduil nodded, his gaze still fixed on the horizon. He never watched the release of the merpeople he rescued from the traps ill-intentioned men left for them. He caught them, and was the first to tend to their wounds before the crew took over, but he didn't stay to make acquaintances. 

It was all quite new. Barely a few months. Such an organization had not been possible while Oropher was alive. If his father had agreed with Thranduil's views, making such changes to his ship had been out of the question. “I'm sorry, son,” he’d said, “it’s a hopeless cause.”

Maybe it was. But they still did something right, and little else mattered. Of course Thranduil hoped he could do more; but what were they, if only but a few men and women against the rest of the world?

The man bowed his head slightly, before he walked down the stairs and went back to the others. Thranduil knew not what to think of the way they looked at him: with respect, but also apprehension. Many knew Thranduil wasn't to be messed with, and if they had no reason to fear his wrath, they still feared to witness it again. They had heard the rumors, before they had seen them turn true themselves. 

Thranduil wasn't the young, innocent boy he had once been.

Thranduil's father had been right: his grief hadn't made him weak. He had taken strength from it, and Thranduil had made sure not to get hurt again. That is why he’d tried to build a relationship with his men—or anyone really—purely professional, which had clearly failed, and why he didn't make small talk with the merpeople he helped to get back to the sea.

It had been his way of protecting himself. By staying away from people, he’d stayed away from pain; he’d had enough with his old burdens. Yet, Thranduil wouldn't admit it to anyone, but he was lonely. He had been for a long time, though his father had been of good company. It had helped, to have him by his side, to get to know him more. 

But then he had died, and had left little less but more pain behind him. 

Once Oropher passed away, many things had changed. New goals, and no limits. 

Anger, fury even; Thranduil had contained lots of it, for way too long. When it had been given the chance, it had exploded, and from then on people had known what to expect from the son of Oropher, who was already well known across the lands. 

There had been no mercy, for the first who had stood in Thranduil's way. He remembered clearly the pure shock in the fisherman's eyes, the moment Thranduil's sword had tore through his chest when he had refused to free the young merman he had just caught, dangerously piercing a dagger into the boy’s throat. 

Apart from saving a life, killing this fisherman had not made things better. It had not changed the past, or made the future a better place. But in that moment, it had felt good as much as it had felt wrong. Thranduil hadn't sought the feeling again, but he had embraced it any time he had been given no other choice. 

Sometimes, he thought of what his mother would say. She would not agree of this. His father, neither. Maybe Galadriel wouldn't see it as badly. Thranduil wouldn’t have cared anyway, but he couldn’t help being filled with guilt when he imagined Bard's accusing eyes on him. And somehow, Thranduil couldn't bring himself to show mercy; “they didn't even give you a chance,” he would have told Bard, if it’d been possible, “at least I leave them one.”

Thranduil tore his attention away for those thoughts, fixing his gaze on his crew. Good men and women, they were. They may not be friends, but he would give his life for each and every one of them, like they were ready to give theirs for people they knew little of, just because they thought it was the right thing to do. 

“We'll make port at the next town,” he said, his voice carrying over the sounds of the sea. “Just a stop for a few days to get supplies. We'll sail again at dawn.”

The crew cheered, as glad as their captain at the prospect of drinking and eating something else than rhum, rain water, and dried food. 

Besides, they had worked well; they deserved some time to relax and forget the horrors they had seen.

 

The day in town, which they made port in two days later, was a relaxing one indeed; Thranduil made sure they bought what they needed before he invited them all to the local pub. The crew drank and danced while Thranduil stayed away, sipping a glass of wine, as was his habit. 

He was rarely in the mood for festivities, but he understood his crew might have the need to unwind, and truth was he rather enjoyed watching them, too. 

Often, one of them would try to get Thranduil to dance, too drunk to realize they had no chance at succeeding, and Thranduil would only roll his eyes. 

In the tavern his eyes caught sight of a familiar face, forming a crease of his brows until he blinked and the man was gone; surely his slightly drunken mind had imagined it. He forgot about it after his second glass of wine and Tauriel, his right-hand, and one of the few alongside him who knew not to abuse the alcohol, still tried unsuccessfully to convince him to dance. 

Then they roamed the streets until dawn, Thranduil watching over them like a parent would over their children. Some of them had fallen asleep where they’d felt like it, and Thranduil went to gather them one by one later on, with Tauriel and the other sober men's help. 

They spent the night in the ship, and the next morning found them at the market again, looking for whatever they might still need. Thranduil caught a flash of blond hair and green eyes gleaming in the early sunlight, but it was gone in a blink once again. He shivered, abruptly feeling hot and uncomfortable, though nothing betrayed it but the slight shaking of his hand and the faraway look in his eyes. 

Thranduil controlled a start when one of his men put a light hand on his shoulder. “Captain, you alright?” 

Shaking himself off, Thranduil gave a short nod of his head. “Yes. Let’s get going.”

Thranduil was about to lead them all back to the ship, when a voice rose behind him. 

“Well, isn't that Thranduil?”

Thranduil stopped dead in his tracks. 

He knew that voice, and had never been able to forget it no matter how hard he had tried. In a second his hand had closed on the tilt of his sword, and it took all his will not to turn around and thrust it into the man's throat. 

He’d not imagined it before, then. 

If his father had been there, he would have told Thranduil to walk away without a look behind—but Oropher wasn't here, and there was so much bitterness and cold anger in Thranduil's heart that he barely knew what to do with it.

“Thranduil, who's that?” Tauriel asked in a murmur.

Slowly, Thranduil turned around. His heart hadn't beaten this fast in a long time, and his palms were suddenly warmer than they should have been. 

The man who stood before him was a shadow of what he’d once been; all tangled hair and dirty clothes and holes in his boots. 

Seeing this man—it was like tearing open a wound that hadn't completely healed. 

“Lawson,” Thranduil said, a smile gracing his lips, but in no way did it reach his eyes. 

Lawson took a step forward, and Thranduil held his head higher. He had easily two feet on his old tutor, and it was enough to make him stop. Beside him Thranduil's crew was silent—they knew better than to interfere, all seeming to have abruptly sobered up. 

The air was dead cold, and all Thranduil could hear was the beating of his heart, and Lawson's voice in his ears. The man was clearly drunk.

“Oh—” Lawson held up a finger, frowning. “You're still holding grudges against me, are you?”

Thranduil didn't answer, nor was he left the time to. He just glared, finding himself unable to move. 

“I see,” Lawson laughed. “Still rooting for that scum you slept with, Thranduil?” he said, going as fast on what hurt as a starved dog would run to a bone. 

Thranduil's hand clenched harder on his sword, and he closed his eyes. How often had he wished he’d killed Lawson when he had the chance? How often had he thought of how unfair it was that this monster still roamed the earth, while a soul as good as Bard's had been taken by his own, dirty hands? 

He was better than this. Wasn't he? 

“Ah!” Lawson exclaimed then, tearing Thranduil out of his thoughts. “You're not even going to deny it, are you?”

“We're leaving,” Thranduil told his companions, ignoring Lawson as best he could; but his hands were still clenched, and his blood was still boiling. 

He turned to leave.

“What was his name, already—?”

Thranduil stopped. “Don't you dare speak his name,” he warned, but Lawson only smiled, revealing yellow teeth. He hadn’t been much of a man before, but now, he was merely the pale shadow of one.

“Bard, wasn't it?”

Or, maybe he wasn't better than this.

The next thing Lawson probably saw was Thranduil's sword planted in his chest. Blood stained his clothes, and there was no emotion upon Thranduil's face as he watched the blood spread, Lawson hanging for his life. 

He didn't feel anything. No guilt, no happiness, no relief, nothing. 

Thranduil tore his sword out, and Lawson fell to his knees and then to the ground. There was no comfort to be found in a monster's body whose blood ran out and fell in the water under the docks. It didn't bring back the dead and what had been lost with them. 

Even the feeling of justice that ran through Thranduil wasn’t nearly enough.

He pushed the body into the water like it was nothing but a sack of dirt, and without a look back, walked away, his stunned crew on his heels. 

The walk back to the ship was silent; even the drunkest of the crew didn't speak a word. The night had taken an unexpected, sudden turn, and none, including Thranduil himself, knew if there was even a right way to deal with it. Thranduil didn't just take a man's life without trying to protect someone—without a good reason.

Once aboard, everyone was quick to go to their posts, getting ready to set sail. 

As second mate, Tauriel followed Thranduil by the wheel. He felt sick, but kept his head high and didn't let any of it show on his face. 

“This man,” Tauriel said quietly. “Who was he talking about?”

Thranduil sighed, shaking his head as he pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Someone whose name Mr. Lawson didn't have any right to speak.” Thranduil realized his fingers were shaking, and clenching his hands into fists didn't stop them. Tauriel lay a worried gaze on him. “Because he was the one who murdered him like an animal.”

At once Tauriel' face darkened. “I've never heard that story.”

Thranduil turned to face her, smiling sadly. He then looked away to the horizon, which he stared at for a moment, wondering whether or not talking about it would make him feel any better. “Meet me in my cabin tonight. Perhaps it’s time to share it—it's been a secret for too long.”

Tauriel nodded, her hand grazing his arm reassuringly, before she went back to her post. Thranduil sighed once more, running his hand through his hair. 

That evening, Thranduil told Tauriel everything about the true reason why he had started this whole operation; from his first days with Bard, to their early teenage years, and the path to adulthood that had been broken and shattered when Bard had lost his life at Lawson's hands. 

By the time he was finished, Thranduil's eyes had been lost in the mist of the ocean, and Tauriel hadn't yet spoken up. He played absently with the old necklace hanging from his neck, almost forgetting where he was. For a moment, he thought he was back in the cave under the cliff, on the island of his childhood. 

“It's for him,” Tauriel said, snapping him back to his cabin. “You're doing all this for him.”

Thranduil slowly nodded. “Always.”

“Why not tell any of us?”

Thranduil frowned at her. “He was a merman,” he said. “Thinking merpeople are worth saving doesn't mean everyone would let this go.”

“Do you really care what they think?”

“No—but I can't afford to lose any member of this crew.”

“I don't think any of us would judge you badly for it,” Tauriel said, straightening herself on the chair and putting on a small smile.

Thranduil smiled back, though with sadness. “Perhaps you're right,” he said, “but I'd rather keep it between us.”

“Very well,” Tauriel said, nodding. “I understand.” 

She leaned forward to squeeze his hand, before crossing her legs under her, and taking on her most serious face—wouldn't it be made softer by the kindness in her eyes. 

Tauriel asked many questions that night, and if it were long ago, Thranduil would have refused to answer any of them, but tonight he found comfort in speaking of Bard for the first time in years. He told her everything she wished to know, for her questions were never misplaced; she asked about the cave, what they did to occupy themselves, what they shared and how long they met every day. Futile things, really, yet they soothed Thranduil's mind, and when he went to bed, sleep was quick to find him, and no nightmares came to disturb him. 

They sailed peacefully for the few weeks that followed; the less work they had to do, the better. All of them were more than happy to be bored to death than having to save merpeople from the nets of fishermen. They didn't always arrive in time to their aid. 

And when, those few weeks later, the storm hit in the early hours of the morning, not one saw it coming. 

Thranduil ran out of his cabin as if they were at war, only wearing pants and a light tunic. It was Hell on deck; the crew tried hard to avoid a disaster, barely managing to keep the boat afloat against the strength of the sea. 

He had little time to do anything but to see the wave, and Tauriel close to the edge, not noticing it as she pulled on a rope with all her might. Thranduil didn't think twice before running towards her, the thumping of his heart fast and hard and almost painful against his ribs. 

Thranduil pushed her out of the way where she would fall to the ground and land against the wood that would offer her protection from being tossed overboard. He didn't get the chance to check; the wave hit him full force, and in the next second his body plunged into the icy water, the shock of it knocking out the air from his chest. 

The salt water flowed into his mouth, burning his throat and lungs. 

Thranduil thought he would die right there and then, in the ocean where he had always belonged. Perhaps this was a good way to go, to become one with the water. Poetic really, to have your life end where it started.

As he felt himself losing his grip onto consciousness, the boat getting further away with each and every passing second while the storm pushed him further out to sea in turn, and just before the blackness spread across his vision and took him under, Thranduil felt a pair of arms wrap around his chest, until he could no longer see or feel anything more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic feels like a love letter to many of my favourite cliché tropes and it's gonna get worse in the next chapter and I don't know whether I'm sorry or not
> 
> Since my goal is to finish this fic before 2018, the last chapter should be posted sometimes in December :) Most of the next chapter is actually written because it was supposed to be one chapter. I decided to cut it for pace purposes and to make betaing easier! (which is also why this chapter was shorter than the other ones) 
> 
> If you liked this, it would make my day if you left even a short comment! Thank you so much for reading!  
>  
> 
> Missed my Big Bang fic? [It's never too late to check it out!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10962315)


	6. Aged 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't kidding when I said this fic is an ode to some of my favourite cliché tropes, so brace yourself, 2015 me had no shame... 
> 
> Anyway, last chapter! I hope you'll like it! 
> 
> Thank you so much to [Liz](http://johnsmoore.tumblr.com) for the editing!! <3

Thranduil woke to the sounds of waves breaking on shore, and the squawking of seagulls. His throat and lungs burned, and all he could smell was the salt water. And then, he could feel a warm presence close to him, and something soft tracing the side of his face. 

He opened his eyes, the light blinding his vision. After a few moments passed to allow his eyes to adjust, the first thing he saw was the wood of an old deck, and then the horizon behind it. 

But then, turning his head slightly, he saw a man’s face. His first instinct was to straighten up in a rush, startling the man and causing him to back away slightly. In the following second that passed, the man came forward again, and placed his hand onto Thranduil's shoulder.

And at the same time he felt the warm palm resting on his shoulder, Thranduil came to realize that the man wasn’t just a man—he was a merman.

And not just any merman. 

Thranduil’s breath caught in his chest. He weighed that maybe he was dead, and that he was just seeing an illusion. He knew those eyes, better than he knew himself. He knew those curls, and the blue of the tail. He knew everything about this body he had left for dead in the cave that had once been their home. 

Thranduil blinked once, twice, before he felt himself suddenly growing angrier. This had to be a very bad joke brought on by his tired, tortured mind.

Or maybe, maybe he was dead. He pushed the possibility away though, for his throat hurt too much from the salty water he had swallowed, and his side hurt from a cut that tainted the water red through a makeshift bandage.

“Get away from me!” he hissed, and the illusion, or whatever it was, slightly backed away. His expression was pained, and mortified. 

“Thranduil. Listen—” he tried as he tentatively got closer again, but Thranduil shoved him away with what little strength he had. 

The merman cowered, as if he had been stabbed. Despite the aura of grim strength that emanated from him, pain filled his eyes—but Thranduil's mind was too muddled to pay it any mind. 

He held his head between his hands, closed his eyes.

He murmured angry words of incomprehension, asked why his mind did this to him—hadn’t he suffered enough? 

But then there were two hands, back on his shoulders.

“Thran—” Thranduil opened his eyes, only for them to meet the hazel of the merman’s. He felt his own being clouded with tears, for he remembered those eyes too well, the memory of them reopening the hole in his broken heart. He couldn’t find the strength within himself to appear cold and strong, like he always did. “It's me, I swear on it, it's me.”

The merman pressed his forehead against Thranduil’s, and then his own hand slid alongside Thranduil's arm, catching his hand in his. Slowly, he brought it up to his chest. 

The skin under Thranduil's fingers was soft, though rougher than he remembered it being. As he was lead over towards the merman's heart, it suddenly felt different, damaged. Thranduil let out a shaky breath as he let his eyes cast down to the spot his fingers lingered on. 

A sob escaped him, as he noticed the scar altering the tanned skin. 

His hand started shaking, as he looked up to meet the merman's eyes again. 

“It's me—” the merman repeated, his hand now carefully caressing the side of Thranduil's face. The way Bard had always loved to do.

“Bard?” His voice broke in a way it hadn't in years, like he was the broken-hearted teenager alone in his room all over again, and he choked out another sob. “Bard?” 

_Bard_ nodded, a smile progressively brightening up his face. It felt strange for Thranduil, to feel one of recognition make its way upon his as well. 

Before he could stop himself, he cried. He let himself fall forwards, gripping Bard's body, burying his face into the crook of his neck. His body trembled as he quietly wept all the pain of the past years away, until his tears weren’t just of pain anymore, but of relief, too.

How could this have been? He had hopelessly wished for such a thing to happen too many times. Surely, he was dreaming—yet the body against his was solid and warm, and he could feel the beating of Bard's heart; soft, steady, and very much alive. 

He didn't know for how long they stayed like this, holding onto each other, Bard whispering soft words of comfort into his ear, stroking his hair, kissing the top of his head like they had never been parted, in the most horrible way the world could have thrown at them. 

Thranduil didn't want it to end. He didn't want to let go in fear it would all disappear and leave him alone on this forgotten beach with pain and regrets for only company. He thought he'd rather have vanquished to the sea, than to experience losing Bard again. 

Eventually, Bard gently separated them, though his hands never left Thranduil’s skin. He then wiped the tears off Thranduil's face, ever so gentle in his every gesture. It was everything like he remembered.

Thranduil wished he could have simply savoured the silence with the feeling of Bard’s arms around him—but he had many questions; and those couldn't be left unanswered. 

“How can you? You died, I saw—” 

“I almost did,” Bard murmured. “But he—Lawson missed my heart, just by a fraction, and I was also lucky. Other merpeople had seen the men coming straight for the cave.” He paused, tucking a lock of Thranduil's hair behind his ear, smiling sadly. “That I spent my time there with you wasn't much of a secret anymore. They didn't get there in time to warn us, but—”

“They saved you,” Thranduil said, looking at Bard as if he was new. “They saved you.”

“Aye, that they did.”

And Thranduil smiled, like he hadn't in years. He smiled that smile that had been reserved only for Bard, for Bard was _here_ , and he didn't have to be a painful, bittersweet memory of softer times turned sorrowful anymore. 

“There you are,” Bard said, almost to himself, as he laid Thranduil back on the sand. And he smiled, too. They were teenagers in the cave under the cliff once again, and it had been long since Thranduil had felt as much as peace as he did now. 

Thranduil spent the evening resting, watching him, and all the same Bard watched him. They traced the lines of each other's face, let their fingers rediscover curves they had once known well, linger on new scars.

“How did you get this one?” one of them would ask, and then a story would be told. 

They had never hidden anything from each other, and that night they had many tales to tell. 

Thranduil told Bard of the time spent with his father, selling tapestries and trying to go on despite the pain, and Bard told Thranduil of the months of healing, the sequels of his wounds making his strength and energy run out faster even today, and the work that had to be done to restore peace in his people's mind.

As it turned out, the shot Bard had sustained had sent him on the verge of unconsciousness, enough to stop him from showing any sign of life in the position he had fallen. The price had been to make Thranduil believe he had died, but it had helped save Bard's life when Lawson had been quick deciding to merely let him rot there, out of pure spite. 

Bard turned the necklace which Thranduil still wore between his fingers as Thranduil told him of how his father had been supportive, had never put him down for his grief, and how after Oropher’s death he had found people sharing his beliefs and willing to travel the world with him, in hopes to change it bits by bits.

“How did you find me?” Thranduil asked at last, when he sat back by Bard's side early in the morning. Once he'd had enough rest to stand, he had gone into the island to find some food and water, and hurried back to the shore.

“I heard the stories of the man saving my people and asking nothing in return,” Bard said, his eyes trailing on the ocean. “I followed them, until I found you.” His gaze snapped back to Thranduil, and he then said, “I wish there was a way I could thank you.” 

“What for?” Thranduil asked. He was the one who had been saved, not the other way around; Bard owed him nothing.

“For keeping your promise.” 

Thranduil shook his head. “It was the least I could do—and the right thing, too.”

“Still—you could have forgotten, and given up a cause many think would always be lost. But you didn't. You didn't and there is no way I, or any of us, will ever be able to thank you enough.”

“Bard,” Thranduil said, with conviction. “You don’t have to. You, being here? That’s more of a gift than I ever dared to hope for.”

Bard shook his head, like to himself. 

But then he leaned forward, and kissed him—a soft, somewhat tentative thing. It’d been a long time. They might as well have been teenagers once more, kissing for the first time under the stars. 

And Thranduil—Thranduil knew those lips well; they felt and tasted the same as they had all those years ago.

  


~•§•~

  
“We cannot stay here,” Thranduil said later that day. “My crew, they would be waiting for me in the next town—they will be waiting for two weeks, before leaving without me.”

“You want to go back?”

“I want to tell them I'm safe,” Thranduil replied, locking his fingers with Bard's. “Then we'll decide what to do, but I want to continue what I’ve been doing. You could come with us.”

Bard nodded once more, like he’d already thought about it. 

“There are a lot of small islands in the area,” Bard mused aloud. “The closest one shouldn’t be further than half a day away.” His eyes then shifted to Thranduil, determined. “I should be able to take you there.”

“It’s still a long way from here.”

“With a few breaks, I’ll manage.”

Thranduil made a short nod of his head. They didn’t really have another choice. At least, _he_ didn’t. “Alright,” he said. “You rest, and I’ll get everything we need.”

Finding the perfect lianas for ropes and pieces of wood took Thranduil more time than he would have liked—but he was relieved that his search allowed him to find some more food; fruits, that were a welcome freshness on his tongue.

He brought some back to Bard, who hadn’t tasted any in years and bit into them hungrily. 

Thranduil spent the rest of the day and into the evening building a raft with the materials he’d found, the moon shining upon his every movement. He fell asleep in the middle of his work, and in the morning it was Bard that he found finishing it. 

They shared some more fruit, the last bits of strength they could gather, before facing the horizon. 

“Bard.” 

Bard glanced up from the rope that he was holding. 

“Are you sure about this?”

Bard’s look turned all the more determined. “If the sea stays on our side—yes.”

With that, Thranduil pushed the raft onto the water, and jumped on. 

 

As it turned out, the sea didn’t stay on their side. 

The first three hours went by smoothly, Thranduil himself helping Bard draw the raft with a makeshift paddle. They shared the workload as much as possible, and when one rested, they told the other of more stories about what had happened during the years they had been parted from each other. 

It was sometimes hard to listen to—to realize how much time they’d lost, and then to feel relief at all the years they could still share together. 

Thranduil also told Bard about his crew, and about Tauriel more specifically, who he had no doubt would be thrilled to meet the merman she had heard so much about.

Bard only interjected once to note how Thranduil spoke of her like an equal, but also like a daughter, and Thranduil found himself unable to deny Bard’s words. 

However, Bard grew visibly nervous when a heavy fog begun forming as they, according to him, got closer to the island, preventing them from seeing anything further than a few feet away. To keep his limited energy, Bard didn’t speak much, but with his constant glances in every direction, Thranduil understood that he was anxious, too. 

He had every reason to be.

Bard felt the boat coming before Thranduil saw it. 

Not strong enough to get out of the way in time, Bard turned on himself to face Thranduil, as he screamed, “Look out!”

The wave provoked by the boat overturned the raft, and Thranduil barely managed to hold his breath before his body hit the water. Right before he thought the boat would hit him, Bard caught him by the waist and, with one strong push of his tail, got them out of the way—but not far enough to not to be drawn back towards the boat. 

Horror made Thranduil’s blood run cold. Of course—of course luck, like the sea before it, wouldn’t stay on their side.

Not again. 

“Let go, Bard!”

“No”, Bard said. “If I do, you'll drown!”

Thranduil let out a silent curse—he should have known better than to think Bard would prioritize his own life over his. 

_Save his life or die trying. . ._ that was something Thranduil could understand better than anyone. Even if he had failed at that task, all those years ago. 

Bard, and staying away from the boat: that was all Thranduil could concentrate on. He tried hard to keep his head above the waves, to swim in the opposite direction, as to give Bard less work. 

Bard, who was struggling, his breath coming out roughly and each new movement losing in strength.

They would not make it. Bard could, if he let go, but Thranduil could still see in his eyes that he wasn’t even considering it. 

“Bard,” Thranduil insisted nonetheless, coughing when he swallowed water that burned his already sensitive throat. “Let—”

Something harsh and heavy falling onto them didn’t let him time to finish. 

This time, it was Thranduil who put the most will into holding onto Bard; one needed no more to realize that they were being caught like fish. 

It might save his life.

But not Bard’s. 

 

They were thrown onto the deck, bodies entangled in the net. Thranduil's first reaction was to stay as close to Bard as he could. Not again, _not again._

“Don't you dare touch him,” Thranduil spat. 

He would not let it happen a second time.

But then, his eyes widened at what he saw; the men and women gathered around them weren't aiming their weapons, merely holding them, and didn't look at Bard like he was an animal to be killed. 

Behind him Bard was breathing heavily, exhausted from his efforts into keeping Thranduil at the surface, and when Thranduil looked down at him his eyes were darting over each and everyone of the men looking at them, staring at their guns. 

“Bard,” Thranduil said, putting his hand onto Bard’s shoulder as gently as he could. “Look at me.”

Bard's eyes snapped to him, and it seemed seeing how calm Thranduil seemed to be was enough to reassure him. He took a deep breath. 

A voice rose then, going over all the murmurs, “Put away your weapons,” a man was saying. He was tall, dark haired, and his face was serious, though his eyes were kind. 

“What do you want?” Thranduil said, keeping his hand on Bard's shoulder.

“It looked like you were struggling, and the next island is a few hours from here,” the Captain said, and he threw the blanket he was holding to Thranduil. “I thought we could help—you have my apologies for giving off the wrong impression. We lost our barque to the last storm.”

“Why help a merman?” Bard said, speaking up for the first time since they had been brought on board. His voice was firm, and there was an edge to it; he had learned to be wary of Men. 

“You looked like you needed help,” the Captain said. “Who and what you are did not matter, and it still doesn't.”

He took a few steps closer under Thranduil’s watchful, protective eye, and crouched, extending his hand to shake. Bard stared at it, then into the man's eyes. Eventually he took it, and shook it the way Thranduil had taught him, many years ago.

There seemed to be a silent understanding between them that Thranduil couldn't quite explain, but if Bard decided to trust this man, then he would, too. And so when the Captain stood again to shake Thranduil's hand as well, Thranduil accepted it. 

“I'm Elrond Peredhel, and you're aboard the Imraldis,” the Captain said, with a wide gesture of his hand to the ship and crew around him. “We'll make port soon, and you're free to stay—unless you wish to try going on your own, but I wouldn't advise it, not in those waters.”

“Very well, thank you,” Thranduil said, lowly. “I'm Thranduil, and this is Bard.”

Elrond nodded, and if he knew Thranduil’s name he didn’t show it, before turning to his crew. “Get water for our merman guest!” he said, and at once the men got moving. 

With that Thranduil sat beside Bard, getting rid of the last of the ropes from the net in which Bard was still partially entangled in. He then rested his head on Thranduil's lap, and to the rhythm of the water being softly poured over his tail, his exhaustion was quick to take the best of him.

“No harm will come to him, you have my word,” Elrond came back to tell him soon after, when only Thranduil could hear him. “I trust my crew.”

There was a strange aura around Elrond; it was easy to trust him, and while that could be dangerous, Thranduil didn't feel he had anything to worry about, if Elrond promised it. He had always trusted his gut instinct, and his instincts had never been wrong before. Besides, if Elrond had ill intentions, he wouldn't have bothered to treat them so nicely; after all, it wasn't as if they had any real choice in remaining onboard. 

Over the hours that followed, Thranduil kept pouring water over Bard every time his skin got too close to being dry, massaged it, traced the path of the scars he found marking it. On the one over Bard's heart his fingers lingered the most, and he thanked all the gods for bringing Bard back to him.

Three children were on board as well; two boys, and a girl, who quickly came closer once they realized the strangers were of no harm, peering curiously at them both, though their attention was, of course, more caught by Bard’s presence than Thranduil’s.

“I like your tail,” said one of the boys, and the two others nodded. 

Bard glanced at Thranduil, smiling; he had told Bard the exact same words, many years ago. 

Afterwards, Bard let them braid his hair and pour water over him, and Thranduil watched from a barrel, never too far from Bard if he could avoid it. 

From time to time they locked eyes, and warmth would spread in through Thranduil's chest, as if to remind him that this was real; Bard was alive, and he was, too, and they were going wherever home would be. 

It was surreal, but whenever Thranduil touched the cut at his side, which Elrond had provided new bandages and medicine for, or stood up in order to go back and sit next to Bard and brush his skin with the tips of his fingers, he couldn't doubt of any of it.

For once, luck was on their side.

Elrond went to sit on the barrel next to him later that day, and his eyes were all the softer as he looked upon the children.

“Are they yours?”

“Yes,” Elrond said. “Do you have children?”

“No,” Thranduil said, and his gaze shifted to Bard for a second. He’d never dared to think of having any, too busy as he was with his and his crew’s secret operation. “But maybe someday, if I can. There are many orphans waiting for someone.”

Elrond only hummed, though Thranduil could feel the weight of his eyes on him, and if he had anything else to say, he didn't voice it.

Eventually the children asked Thranduil if they could braid his hair as well, and it was gladly that Thranduil went to sit close to Bard, and let small hands work through his hair. 

And Bard watched him, eyes soft, and face fair. 

He was very beautiful; he had always been.

  


~•§•~

  
Time passed fast on the Imraldis.

The three days that separated them from their destination went by in a blur of catching up lost time, good food (as good as it could get on a boat) and children braiding hair. 

Bard seemed delighted; though he was wary at first, he eventually answered most of the questions thrown his way by the crew, who by doing so became more curious, and made Bard more comfortable around them in turn. 

Looking at them, Thranduil saw what he wished the world could become. His will to keep on doing his work saw itself considerably increased—and with Bard by his side, he had never been more sure of which path to take; perhaps even for the rest of his days, if it was what the future held for him.

“I can leave you on the closest island,” Elrond suggested on that third day, not leaving time for Thranduil to internally scoff at how the Captain had eavesdropped his and Bard’s conversation about where they should meet once Thranduil found his crew. “I meant to reach the next town anyways. I can find your crew, and tell them to meet you there. If my memory doesn’t fail me, there are high rocks you can hide between until they get to you.”

“That would be perfect,” Thranduil said, relief washing over him at their problem being so easily solved. It wouldn’t have been so hard, but he was reluctant to leave Bard on his own so close to Men’s world. “Thank you—for all you’ve done, captain.”

“Yes,” Bard added, and a single look at him told Thranduil he felt the same. “Thank you.”

Elrond tipped his hat. “My pleasure, gentlemen.” 

With that he turned around, and gently woke up his children who'd fallen asleep nearby. He spoke to them quietly, their eyes widening and turning sad the more words left his mouth. 

Then, without so much as a warning, the twins ran to Bard and hugged him tight, while their little sister crashed in Thranduil's arms, repeating that they would miss them and wished they didn't have to leave.

Thranduil couldn't help but smile, and tell them that he had no doubt their paths would cross again.

And, if they didn't, he knew deep down that his legacy would live on; one day, merpeople would be free from Men’s cruel ways, and it would be because once upon a time, a merman and his beloved were caught on a ship, and let children braid their hair.

 

As promised Elrond dropped them off near an empty island, from which Thranduil could see the small shadows of boats on the horizon. 

He sat with Bard between the rocks, Thranduil only being visible from whoever would get close enough, and waited for his crew to arrive. 

“What now?” Bard asked, when the shape of Thranduil’s boat approached into view a few hours later, and his eyes shifted from the horizon onto him. 

“I don't know,” Thranduil said. “Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere we can help,” Bard said, “Anywhere I can follow, as long as you're with me.”

Thranduil smiled at that, reaching out to brush the side of Bard's face, and tracing down towards his heart, like he had so often done over the past few days.

“Anywhere, then,” Thranduil murmured. “Anywhere.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope that wasn't as bad as I sometimes think it was...! As said above, most of it was written back in November 2015, but some bits are more recent. The first draft from back then was much, much more cliché than what you just read (the dialogues made me want to hide on a far away island for the next ten years) so you can imagine how terrible it used to be awsdjkhflm
> 
> Thank you to everyone who followed this story until the end, it truly means a lot to me!
> 
> Kudos are much appreciated, so if you liked this, don't forget to press the button! Then, a comment a day keeps writer's block at bay! :D
> 
> Find me on Tumblr @ [evansluke](http://evansluke.tumblr.com/) or [barduil](http://barduil.tumblr.com/)!

**Author's Note:**

> [Here](http://barduil.tumblr.com/post/165445861648)'s the edit if you want to share it! You can find me on Tumblr over there :) And [here's another edit](http://northerntrash.tumblr.com/post/148742206497/nts-fic-recs-48-crimson-water-by-barduil) by [northerntrash](http://northerntrash.tumblr.com)! ♡


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